Consumed
by CreepingMuse
Summary: Was the kiss at the end of "The New Deal" really worth feeling guilty about? Elena isn't so sure.
1. Consumed

_This was only supposed to be a one-shot, a little way of venting some frustration with the slow, slow burn of Damon and Elena. Somehow, without my quite knowing how, it morphed into a massive alternate version of Season 3 with a key difference: Elena chooses Damon. That changes everything. This was written right along with the season, trying to stay one step ahead and twist canon in new ways, always trying to dodge the curve balls the show threw at me while looking at what a real relationship between the two would look like and tossing in a few surprises of my own._

_This story is a very hard T, with graphic violence and frank sexual discussion. Damon also says "fuck" a lot. It's been an insane story to write, challenging and difficult but so rewarding as a person and a writer. I hope you enjoy._

_-Allison, 5/12/12_

* * *

><p>"You know what? If I'm going to feel guilty, I'm going to feel guilty about <em>this"<em>

Damon's hands were on her face, lips pressing hers in a feather-light touch. Everything spun in Elena's head in a desperate swirl of emotions and input. It was all too much, the situation with Jeremy, Stefan's "betrayal," and now Damon kissing her so tenderly, almost fearfully, like she was a confection of blown glass that might shatter into a million pieces at the slightest touch. Where was the fire of the Damon who'd drunkenly sworn there was something between them, the sweet regret in their death bed encounter, that fierce protectiveness of the man who'd saved her, in so many ways, time and again?

They parted by mutual consent a moment later, her lips cold from his touch. Those blue eyes searched her face and seemed to find their answer. "Goodnight, Elena." He started down the steps.

No. If she was going to make a fresh start, to truly and really let Stefan go, it wasn't going to happen like this. She grabbed his leather-clad forearm, and he turned towards her in surprise.

"If I'm just as guilty, I might as well feel bad about _this." _Elena snaked one arm around his neck, drawing Damon in. And she kissed him.

This time, there were no pesky invading thoughts, no angst over Jeremy or memories of another Salvatore's touch. No, there was only an outpouring emotion for this man, this son of a bitch who'd threatened her, hurt her, protected her, saved her, comforted her and always, always loved her.

This was no gentle press of lips, this was a kiss that consumed all thought, her body pressed against his, fingers woven through his dark hair. Damon's body went rigid for a moment, surprised by her sudden advance, but then he relaxed against her, his fingers raising once more to brush her cheeks, the calloused pads of his thumbs caressing the delicate skin. His lips parted, yielding under her insistent tongue.

For an endless moment they devoured each other, standing in the pale glow of the porch light. When they finally released one another, each backed up a step, staring at the other with wide eyes, breath coming in short gasps.

"God. Elena-"

Elena's hand lifted to brush Damon's swollen lips. "Good night, Damon."

With a secret smile over her shoulder, she disappeared into the house. She knew she'd regret this in the morning, but for now, that kiss was worth a little guilt.


	2. Hollowed

_Thank you all for your wonderful feedback. I know I said I'd make it a one shot, but thanks to all your support (and a couple ideas I have knocking around), let's see where this goes, shall we? Please enjoy._

The guilt never came.

That wasn't quite true. There was plenty of guilt to go around—always was these days. Guilt over what she'd done to Jeremy, guilt over what she'd done to Rebekah, guilt over Jenna and John dying because of her? Oh yeah, there was still lots of that. But not a scrap of any of it involved what had happened on the porch with Damon Salvatore.

Elena sat on the edge of Jeremy's bed, folding his seemingly endless supply of hoodies and tucking them into a suitcase. He could do it himself, but she wanted to take care of him this one last time. God only knew how long it would be before they met again. Besides, he had goodbyes to make.

Her mind wandered as her hands engaged in the mindless rhythm of folding and packing. Why _wasn't _she guilty? Wasn't that the right thing? Stefan's absence in her life was still a scar that turned into a sucking chest wound whenever she considered it too long. In a very real way, she still loved him—or at least, she loved the man he had been before he did the noble thing one too many times.

But how many times did he have to say "I don't want you in my life anymore" before she got the picture? This wasn't a matter of compulsion now, not a matter of hidden humanity. Stefan was under his own control and with his morality switch in the fully upright and locked position. But he'd chosen a cold, dark lover over her. Elena could never compete with his revenge.

And it wasn't that she was in love with Damon. She enjoyed spending time with him, missed him when he left, trusted him implicitly, and her heart skipped a beat whenever he turned those freakishly blue eyes on her. But she couldn't ignore what he was.

He was a murderer. He excelled at torture and compulsion. He got what he wanted, no matter what the costs. No matter how sweet and kind and gentle he was with her (memories of blood forced down her throat, memories of violence and savagery), he wasn't a _tame_ vampire.

But he loved her. And when he'd kissed her last night, really kissed her...As much as she missed Stefan, it had never been like that.

Elena lay the last t-shirt in the suitcase and reached into her pocket. She looked down at the item in her hand, looking for all the world like an antique gold pocket watch. She hid the Gilbert Device in a pocket of the suitcase. It was his inheritance, after all. Jeremy ought to have it.

"You ready?" Alaric asked quietly from the doorway.

"Yeah. I was just finishing. I think he's got everything he'll need." Elena zipped the suitcase and Alaric picked it up, setting the large roller bag on the floor. He started to turn towards the door, then stopped.

"You know...it's not too late," Alaric said.

Elena shook her head. "Yes it is. It was too late the moment my baby brother had to cut off someone's head. He's the only family I have left, Alaric. I have to save him, even if it means..." she trailed off. _Even if it means you'll never see him again,_ her traitorous mind whispered.

Alaric nodded. "You're right. You're right. This is what has to happen. He has to have a chance at a life." He glanced at his watch. "We gotta go or he'll miss his flight."

The pair tromped down the stairs with the heavy suitcase, into the driveway where Jeremy stood. When Elena saw his smiling, unburdened face, she knew this was right. Even if that happiness was compulsion-induced, she knew he'd eventually feel it for himself. She forced a smile. She absolutely refused to cry. This was a happy moment: Jeremy's emancipation from the darkness that had swallowed him for so long.

"Thanks for packing for me, 'Lena. I wanted to say goodbye to everyone, and there wasn't much time," Jeremy said.

"Yeah, of course. I'm glad you got to say goodbye." Elena swallowed hard. Goodbyes. Yeah. About those...

Jeremy opened his arms wide to her, his eyes lighting in a genuine smile as she hugged him fiercely. "I'm going to miss you, Elena. You should come visit me, we can do some skiing. You know the Johnsons would love to see you," he said.

For a long moment, she didn't respond. She just held him, memorizing every detail: the smell of his cheap cologne, the unexpected strength of his arms, the low rumble of his voice. And then she pulled away and put on her own best smile. "I'd like that. Maybe for Christmas."

"Guys..." Alaric said, shutting the trunk. "We gotta go, it's a long way to the Richmond Airport."

"You sure you don't want to come to the airport, Elena?" Jeremy asked.

"No, I'm awful at goodbyes." She caught him in another tight hug. "I love you, Jeremy. You're going to love Denver. I'll see you soon."

"I love you too, Elena, but somehow...I don't think we'll be seeing each other soon." He pulled back, hint of confusion in his eyes. "Will we?"

She couldn't lie to him. Not again. She just smiled and shook her head. "I love you. Call me when you get to Denver, okay?"

"Be careful, Elena." With a little wave, he and Alaric climbed into the car and drove off. She watched them until the car disappeared from sight. Jeremy never looked back.

There was a soft breeze, and there was Damon. He opened his mouth to speak, and then thought better of it. And then, wordlessly, he took her into his arms, holding her close.

She pressed her face against his shoulder, clutching him so hard her arms ached. She couldn't breathe. Jeremy was _gone_, her last trace of family. He'd live, he'd have his chance at a real life, but that was cold consolation when she stood here so alone against the whole damn world.

Well. Maybe not entirely alone.

Elena let out a shuddering gasp for air. Damon was still silent, holding her, stroking her hair. He was simply there, and that was enough.


	3. Crushed

_You guys are awesome! Thanks for all your wonderful feedback._

Elena sank into the couch, hands extended to the fire in an attempt to soak some warmth into her tired bones, but somehow she knew the flames couldn't give her what she needed.

"Thanks for letting me stay," she said. Damon pressed a mug of tea into her hands. "I didn't want to stay at home tonight."

The empty house was crowded with memories. Every room was a complicated mess of echoes. The kitchen, home to so many family dinners, had an indelible stain of blood behind the sink where John had fallen at Katherine's hands. Jeremy's room, where they'd spent hours playing video games (Jeremy was unbeatable at Mario Kart), and where she'd seen his cold corpse fall to the ground, reanimated by magic she didn't understand. The front porch, where the whole family gathered on sultry Southern evenings to drink glass after glass of sweet tea, and where a meat cleaver left splinters.

No, she didn't want to be at home tonight.

"I can understand that. You know you're always welcome here, Elena. It is technically your house, after all." Damon busied himself with his decanters, pouring a stiff drink. Elena took a suspicious sniff of her tea.

"It's just Earl Gray, Elena. Unless you want to make it Irish?" He shook the bottle enticingly, but she shook her head. "Suit yourself." He flopped onto a seat opposite her.

They sat in companionable silence for some time, sipping at their drinks and watching the flames. More and more recently, there hadn't been a need for words between them. Damon knew that no words could comfort her against the loss of Jeremy. Yes, it was the right thing to do, even if the methods they'd used to achieve it were wrong. Yes, it sucked royally, and no platitudes could make it suck any less.

Elena couldn't hide a smile as she heard Damon start to fidget, the leather creaking beneath him. "I wondered how long that would take. Go ahead, say it," Elena said.

"What, you mean you _don't_ want to talk about what happened last night?" Damon asked, leaning forward. "We don't have to. Especially not right now. You probably just want to go to bed-" he started to rise.

"Sit down, Damon." She pushed the mug of tea away, starting to wish she'd taken him up on his offer for something harder. "So, do you feel guilty?" 

Damon lowered himself back onto the couch, eyeing her warily, like he was walking into a trap. "Do you? Are you sorry we-"

"No. Once you decided I wasn't going to run screaming and gave me a _real _kiss? No, I'm not sorry about that." She sighed. "But I don't know what to do about it now."

Emotions warred across Damon's face: relief she didn't regret what they'd done, but disappointment that she wasn't flinging herself into his arms again. "What do you mean? Look, Elena, if you felt something—if you felt the things that I feel for you, then there's no _question_ about what we should do now."

"Let's pretend we survive this. It's unlikely, but let's go with it. What happens then, Damon? Are you going to take me to my senior prom, follow me to college? Are you going to be okay with me staying human, or are you always going to be looking for the first wrinkle and gray hair? You've made it clear over and over again that you're not Stefan, don't want to _be _Stefan. You like killing, you like being a vampire. What happens when we have a fight, Damon? Are you going to threaten to _break my arm_ again?"

She sank back against the couch, suddenly exhausted. There. It was all on the table. Maybe now they could stop pretending that all that mattered was love. There were so many reasons it couldn't work, would never work.

Crushing, oppressive silence weighed down on them.

"I'm not a good person, Elena. Even before I became a vampire, I was selfish, vain, stupid. But every day that I'm with you, every moment we spend together, makes me want to try harder. I'll always do what I have to to protect you. And I won't feel sorry about it."

Damon rose, approaching her with steady steps. He sank to his knees before her, one hand gripping the couch on either side of her legs. He looked up at her, his face stripped of artifice and naked before her. She had never seen him so vulnerable.

"I will never be the man you deserve. I'm not sure he exists. But I will love you—as a human, if that's what you really want—for as long as your heart beats. Everything else you mentioned? That's just logistics. I love you, and if that isn't enough, then you're right. We should both walk away right now. Because I can't play this game anymore, Elena."

There was that silence again. Not the companionable, pleasant silence they'd experienced earlier, but a silence that crackled with energy and anticipation, a silence that pressed upon them both, waiting for an answer.

Three times Elena opened her mouth to speak, to end that crushing silence, and three times she closed it, at a loss for words. She slid from the couch to kneel beside him on the floor, knees touching. "I'm scared."

Damon took her hands in his, his skin dry and cool against hers, his grip strong. "So am I. None of this is going to be easy. But I'd rather fail in a blaze of glory than never try at all, Elena."

She drew a deep, shuddering breath. Then another. She disentangled one hand from his, the tips of her fingers brushing his cheeks like feathers. "Can you be patient with me? Can we take it one day at a time?"

His face split into a broad smile, not that closed-lip smirk, not that mocking quirk of lips she knew so well. No, this was a genuine, wide grin that transformed his face. "I've waited this long, Elena. We'll go as slow as you want to. I promise to be nothing but a perfect gentleman."

Elena couldn't help but laugh. "Bullshit. It wouldn't be you if you were a perfect gentleman."

"An _imperfect_ one, then." He brushed his lips against her forehead in the lightest of touches. Electricity danced down her spine.

"I'm in."


	4. Convinced

_Have I mentioned you guys are awesome? 'Cause you are. Thanks for all of the subscriptions and reviews, they mean the world to me. If you're enjoying this, you may want to check out "Well and Truly Broken," an action-packed rewrite of Season 2, or "Those Eyes," my character study of the late, great Andie Starr. Or, just sit back, relax,_ _and enjoy._

It was strange waking up beside him.

There had been more than a few morning when she'd awoken to find Damon lounging in her bed, but this was the first time they'd gone to sleep together in his bed, the overwhelming scent of _him_ everywhere, in the air, on her skin. The first time she really admitted to herself that she was glad to see him.

They'd fallen asleep curled together, but had shifted apart in the night. Elena didn't mind. It gave her a chance to watch him sleep now. It was a strange thing to see someone lie so still: no twitch of heartbeat, no rise and fall of breath.

As a child, Elena had a desperate fear that one of her parents would die in the night. When monsters threatened from her closet and she'd crawled into bed with them, she'd watch their slumbering backs, listened for her father's steady breathing and her mother's soft snoring. Whenever there was a hitch or variation, she'd fling out an arm or a leg, just so they'd move and she could be sure they were alive. Now, she had to fight the urge to give Damon a gentle prod, to nuzzle against his bare chest, just so she could be sure he hadn't vanished in the night.

She considered the man beside her. True to his word, he'd been quite the gentleman last night. They'd held each other, watching the flickering flames and content simply to _be_ until she nodded against his shoulder and he spirited her up to bed.

Truth be told, the idea of having sex (Making love? Sleeping with? She didn't even know the right terminology when he was involved) with Damon terrified her. Not that she didn't want to. After all, he was beautiful, and she did care about (Love? Was that what this was?) him. But he had so much more experience than she did. She wasn't even sure having sex with Matt counted. Those awkward, fumbling encounters had involved a lot of giggling and a lot of fun, but hadn't included many fireworks. And Stefan had always, always held back. He was gentle and soft and considerate to a fault. Sometimes she didn't want to make love—she wanted to be well and truly fucked.

But Damon had probably bedded hundreds (or even _thousands?_) of women. What if she bored him? What if he thought she was just a little girl trying to play a woman's game?

And what if he had the opposite problem from Stefan? Damon couldn't control himself in _any_ aspect of his life—how could he be expected to hold back in the throes of passion? What if he hurt her? What if he bit her (Or did she want him to?)? All of it left a confused (though not entirely unpleasant) knot in her stomach.

"Like what you see?" A slow smile spread across Damon's face even as his words made Elena jump. "That's what you get for being creepy."

"I wasn't being _creepy._ Besides, you do it to me all the time." Elena had a disorienting moment of deja vu, but she suppressed the feeling. This wasn't Stefan. Though maybe she _should_ stop watching people sleep.

"How do you know if you were asleep?" His eyes still closed, Damon reached out and pulled her close, burying his head against her neck. "Mmm, why are you awake, anyway? It's way too early."

"I have to be at school early, sign some papers to finalize Jeremy's transfer." She frowned. "Speaking of, I should have heard from him by now..." she rolled away from Damon, fumbling for her phone on the nightstand. He grabbed her arm, arresting the movement.

"No, you shouldn't. His flight didn't leave 'til late, then he had to fly to Atlanta, transfer, and then the red eye to Denver. It'll still be a while." Those bright blue eyes finally opened, full of steel and sympathy. "Klaus is nuts, but he's not going to hijack a plane. Jeremy's going to be fine, Elena."

Elena heaved a sigh, her arm dropping back onto the bed. She let Damon draw her back into his arms. "I know you're right. And I know I shouldn't call him. It'll only make it harder for him to adjust. But I miss him already."

"That's because you're a good sister." He pressed his lips against her hair. "You'll see him again. Maybe it won't be that long until this is all over with."

"Oh, Damon. You're sweet, but let's not start our relationship with lies." She pressed a kiss on the tip of his nose and rolled out of bed.

"Caught me. But I do like it when you call it a relationship. Has a nice ring to it," he smirked.

Elena paused for a moment and turned back towards him. For the first time in days, a real smile spread across her face. "It does, doesn't it?" But the smile didn't last. It faded as a new thought struck. "What are we gonna tell Stefan when he finds out? Because he _will_ find out."

Damon groaned, burying his face in the pillow. "Elena," he whined, "you are such a killjoy." With that disconcerting vampire speed, he was gazing into her face, his hands resting on either cheek. "We will deal with Stefan when the time is right. I don't want to lie to him either. But believe me when I say that Stefan has enough on his mind right now without adding this." A wry smile curved his lips. "Besides, would he really believe that you wanted to be with me?" His thumb stroked her cheek. "I'm still not sure I do."

"Really? I do." She kissed him, a closed mouth peck.

"That wasn't very convincing, Elena."

"Then you're just going to have to wait until I brush my teeth until you get something more convincing. Don't vampires get morning breath?" With a little grin over her shoulder, she disappeared into the bathroom.

Half an hour later, she convinced him. Then she slipped out into the chill dawn.


	5. Hidden

"I didn't know you were taking band this semester," Damon said, not looking up from his book. They sat tucked into a booth at the Grille. Elena was supposed to be studying trig, but her thoughts were far away from hypotenuses.

"What? I'm not taking band," she said.

"Oh, good. Then you can stop practicing your drumming." Damon stared pointedly at her hand. Elena hadn't even noticed the incessant tapping of her pencil against her notebook. She dropped the thing with a sigh.

"Sorry. Maybe we shouldn't have come after all." Elena knew it was a mistake, even though she'd begged Damon to come. It was out of sheer stubbornness that they were there: she refused to stop living her life simply because a homicidal immortal vampire/werewolf _whatever_ was trying to kill her. Damon had said it was too dangerous, but she'd won him over in the end. And now she wanted only to be somewhere safe, somewhere they could hide. "I just keep thinking we're being watched."

"We are. Tyler's shooting pool. You know he's just waiting to report back to Klaus" Damon glanced at the boy briefly before his gaze settled on Elena. "But I have a feeling that's not what you mean."

"Have you always been this perceptive, or is this new?" Was she really that transparent? Could he see right through her like that?

"Mmm. I always pay attention where you're concerned, Elena." He did that eye thing, the one that made the lump in her stomach explode into butterflies. Then he shut his book with a sharp snap. "C'mon. If we're going to talk, we better do it away from wolfie." Damon pitched his voice so Tyler could hear, even from across the room. Tyler flipped Damon the bird.

Elena slipped her notebook into her bag while Damon dropped a stack of bills onto the table. As they walked out, she was aware of how close he stood to her, how their arms brushed as they walked, the heat of his gaze as he held the door.

The sun was just slipping below the horizon as they left, the world bathed in dusky blue. They walked without any particular destination, hands nearly touching. Elena wanted to reach out, to take his hand in hers, to stroll hand-in-hand with him like a normal couple. But there was nothing normal about them. She jerked her hand away, casting a worried glance over her shoulder.

Damon's brow quirked. "So. You wanna tell me why you keep jumping whenever we come within two feet of each other?"

No, she didn't really want to tell him. How did you tell the man you were with, the man you cared for (Love? Was it possible? So soon?), the man you couldn't get off your mind that you were terrified for your friends to know you were together?

She saw all the reactions now. Caroline would remind her how he'd used her, sucked her, fucked her, tried to kill her. "Don't you remember what he _did_, Elena?"

Alaric would stage an intervention, all earnestness and fatherly concern. "Do you know what you're doing, Elena? Because I don't think you do."

Bonnie would look at her aghast, her dark eyes full of righteous indignation. "Elena, are you crazy? It's _Damon._"

And what if Klaus knew? With Jeremy safely out of the picture, if he learned that hurting Damon was the best way to hurt her...well, she didn't know what would happen then. She truly didn't.

"This is happening really fast, Damon." She swallowed hard. "I mean, it's been happening for a long time, but it's all kinda come to a head, you know? And I just don't want people to find out before I figure out how to tell them. About us."

Damon kicked a stone. It ricocheted out of sight. "Are you ashamed to be with me?" His voice was quiet, his tone urgent.

"No! No, Damon. It's nothing like that. It's just..." she groped for the words. "You want to tell Stefan when the time is right. You don't want him finding out from someone else, or at the wrong time. It's the same thing. And you know, you haven't exactly endeared yourself to my friends."

His mouth twitched into a half-smile. "No, I guess I haven't."

"But you said this wasn't going to be easy, Damon. And it's not.. But I'm trying. I'm really, really trying."

Being with Stefan hadn't been _easy, _exactly, but it had been simple. He loved her. She loved him. They got along well, genuinely loved each other on some level. But it had been shallow and simplistic, with some deeper, undefined _something_ that was always missing. With Damon, nothing was easy. The very act of choosing to be with him was a challenge. But every moment they spent together confirmed the very _rightness _of the choice. Being with Damon was never going to be boring, but it was always going to be difficult.

Damon looked left and right, like a child about to cross the street. Confident that the coast was clear, he pushed Elena behind a gnarled live oak tree, a curtain of Spanish moss shielding them from sight. Her back was pressed against the rough bark, his lips hovering above hers.

"I had to keep what I felt for you a secret for so long, Elena. For the first time, I feel like someone sees me." He started to speak again, but broke off, frustrated. "_Fuck_. I don't have the right words, Elena. But no matter how I tried to hide from you, you saw who I really was. And you thought I was _worth_ seeing, worth saving. So I want to be with you, in front of the whole world."

"And I want to be with you too, Damon. I'm trying to figure out a way to tell them." She ran her fingers through his long hair, mustering a faint smile. "Any suggestions?"

"Get 'em drunk. At least Ric. That always works. But they'll come around, Elena. If they see that I make you happy, they won't be able to argue." A hint of anxiety, a dash of doubt crept into his eyes. "I do make you happy, don't I?"

Elena laughed, her breath soft against his cheek. "Is Damon Salvatore insecure? About a _girl_?" She pressed her laughing lips to his in a long, deep kiss, arms twining around his neck. "Yes. You make me happy."

Damon's eyes remained closed after the kiss. He pressed his lean body against hers, and she felt his arousal against her leg. "God, Elena. You're making this gentleman thing _hard_." His voice was a low growl.

She kissed him again, soft and sweet. "I promise we'll tell them. Soon. And you are being _quite_ the perfect gentleman. Thank you, Damon. Thank you for that."

"For you? I can even try to be nice to Caroline. If_ that _doesn't prove I'm serious, then nothing will."

Laughing, the two strolled into the night.


	6. Known

_You guys are wonderful. I mean it. I know you're loving the frequent updates, but I won't get a chance for one tomorrow, so please let this slightly longer chapter hold you over a couple of days. Enjoy! _

The scene was so familiar: three girls gathered in Caroline's sunny, cheerful bedroom. It was one of Elena's favorite places. Caroline had the best dress-up clothes, then the best magazines, then the best stash of booze. How many hours had they all spent together in this room, staging elaborate plays under Caroline's bossy direction, gossiping, crying over boys?

But right now, Elena wanted to vomit all over Caroline's pretty bedspread.

Damon had offered to come with her, for moral support if nothing else, but she knew that him being there would make it worse for Bonnie and Caroline. It was going to be tough enough for them to hearthat she and Damon were an item; they didn't need a visual aide.

Caroline was finishing showing off the great clothes her dad had bought her. Elena smiled and nodded with absent appreciation. Once she'd finished, Caroline flopped onto the bed next to her, dislodging a few stuffed animals from their pile near the headboard. "You're awfully quiet, Elena. What, don't you think mango is going to be _the_ color this season? Because it _totally_ is, you should have seen all of it at Sak's."

"Oh, I hope not. Mango washes me out. I hope it's plum instead," Bonnie said.

Elena laughed. Leave it to Caroline to push aside all their fears about being murdered horribly, focusing instead on fashion. It felt good, just for a moment, to be that carefree girl again. "Last I heard it was going to be mint, but I guess I'm a little out of the loop." The smile slid off her face. This was it. This was the moment. They'd once pinky sworn they'd never let boys come between them, and they never had. But this could be it.

"Guys, I have something to tell you. And it's kinda hard for me to say and it's gonna be weird for you to hear, so I just want you to let me finish before you say anything, okay?"

Bonnie blinked at her, wide-eyed and innocent, nodding her assent. But Caroline gave her a long, measuring look. "You're seeing _Damon_, aren't you?"

"Caroline! She is not seeing Damon! Where do you get this stuff? Elena's smart, she'd never-" Bonnie was silenced by Elena's guilty face.

"Oh, please, Bonnie. Don't you remember when they made chili? Couldn't keep their hands off each other. Then with Stefan being gone and them nearly getting killed like every _week_, how could you have missed it?"

Elena felt deflated. The secret was out in the open...if it had ever been a secret. Caroline's relationship radar was uncanny, so maybe it stood to reason that she'd seen right through them. But the expression on Bonnie's face broke Elena's heart. Bonnie was so good, so pure, so _righteous_. She thought everyone could walk the same path she did, hold to the same exacting moral standards. Elena had constantly disappointed her when they were younger, when she'd sneaked peeks at her classmate's tests or flirted a little too outrageously with a few too many boys. This was even worse: Bonnie saw Damon as an incarnation of pure evil. And maybe she should. But Elena couldn't stop wanting what she wanted.

"Yeah. I'm seeing Damon. I know it's hard for you to understand. He's done some awful things to both of you. I know that. But he's changing, guys. He said when he's with me, he wants to be a better person, he wants to try harder."

Caroline groaned. "Elena, that's the oldest line in the _book_. Please tell me you didn't fall for that."

"It's not a line! He means it," Elena protested.

"How do you know he means any of it? How do we know _you_ mean any of it? What if he's compelled you to think all of this, Elena? Did you ever think of that?" Bonnie said, her voice like ice.

"No! He wouldn't do that. Damon would never compel me," Elena said, trying desperately to defend him. God, this wasn't going well.

"Why not? He did it to me," Caroline said quietly.

Elena blinked rapidly. She wasn't going to cry. That just wasn't going to happen. She had nothing to be sorry for. "I know. I know what he did to you, Caroline, and to your Grams, Bonnie. But he's changing. I believe that. And as much as I love both of you guys...you have your own lives to deal with, and he's been my rock through all this. Some days, Damon's all that keeps me above water." She swallowed, climbing off Caroline's bed. "I don't have answers for you about why, and I can't make what he did right. But we're together. And I hope you can be okay with that eventually."

Her eyes flickered from one face to another. Bonnie wouldn't meet her gaze, but Caroline looked wistful, her eyes far away. Her clear blue eyes snapped back to the present, and she stood, wrapping Elena in a tight hug. "I'm just worried about you. Promise me you'll be smart: always wear your vervain, keep your head on straight. But you're my friend, and if he's what you want, then that' s okay. I guess."

"Caroline...thank you," Elena whispered against her friend's shoulder, a few rogue tears spilling over. This was the best reaction she could have expected.

The blonde pulled back, a wicked smile on her face. "Damon and I might just need to have a talk about how he needs to treat you. He takes me a _little_ more seriously these days."

Elena laughed, mustering a tremulous smile as she wiped her cheeks. She thought the worst might be over...until she noticed Bonnie was gone.

* * *

><p>One out of two wasn't bad. Better than she could have hoped for, even. But the worst part of all this was that she had to do this all again. Elena pulled into the driveway at home, parking behind Alaric's car. Maybe this wouldn't be as hard. Alaric liked Damon. Usually. When Damon wasn't killing him for shits and grins.<p>

Maybe she _should_ get him drunk.

She found him in the living room, red pen in hand and a pile of papers spread before him. Baseball was muted on the TV, and his glass of bourbon was close at hand. He smiled when he saw her, but it was tight and worried. "Welcome home, Elena. Haven't seen much of you lately. You doing okay?"

"I'm fine. I've talked to Jer a couple times. He's doing great—really great. He starts school tomorrow and says he's already met a girl he thinks he might like." Elena had to smile at that. He'd sounded so happy, so unburdened by life-and-death concerns. They'd done the right thing. "How about _you?_ You feeling okay? What happened with the ring...that was bad."

Alaric scowled down at the tacky ring on his finger. "I'm fine, Damon's blood did the trick. I still don't know what's wrong with this thing, though. That's never happened before."

Elena sat, hands folded primly in her lap into a white-knuckled grip. Okay. Here goes. "I have to tell you something, Ric."

Alaric looked up at her, eyes darting with confusion. "What is it? Is it Klaus?"

"No, for once it doesn't have anything to do with him. It's..." she stumbled. "I don't know how to say this to you. I already told Bonnie and Caroline and _that _was bad enough..."

Slowly, Alaric laid his grading pen down, turning towards her. "Oh, God. Elena. Are you...are you pregnant?"

That did it. Elena erupted into a peal of giggles. "Pregnant? You thought I was trying to tell you I was _pregnant_?" The idea was so absurd, it set her off into nearly hysterical laughter again. The look on his face...Damon was going to love this story. The thought of him was sobering, and she managed to pull herself together. "No, that's one problem I don't have. Ric...I'm dating Damon."

Ric stared at her. He reached for his bourbon, draining the glass in a gulp. "You're dating Damon. Tell me,, how does an 17-year-old girl _date_ a 170-odd-year-old vampire?"

Elena stood, locating the bourbon bottle on the sofa table. She refilled his glass, leaving the bottle by its side. "I know. It doesn't make any sense. Everything about it says it should be wrong, but-"

"And what about Stefan, Elena? He's a little off the reservation right now, but Damon's still his brother. Isn't it just common courtesy not to date your ex's siblings?" His voice was raised, angry.

"Yes, I know, but-"

He took a long pull of the bourbon. "Or how about the fact that he's a murderer, Elena? He's killed _me_ twice, nevermind how many other people," Alaric said, really yelling now. Oh God, she hadn't thought it could be worse than Bonnie's silent disapproval. But it could.

"You're not telling me anything I don't already know," she yelled back, frustrated.

"Do you love him?" Alaric asked flatly.

"What?" Elena was flustered beyond belief. Of all the questions he'd expected Alaric to ask, of all the objections she'd expected him to raise...that hadn't been on the list.

"In spite of all that, do you love him?" Alaric repeated the question deliberately, gaze fixed on hers.

"Yes! I love him, okay? Was that what you wanted to hear?" The words were gone before Elena even had time to consider them. She sat down abruptly when she realized what she'd said. Where had that come from?

"Yeah. I know." Alaric gave her a sideways smile, pausing for more bourbon. "I'm glad you know it now, too."

"Did everyone but me know about this?" Elena asked, voice stilted with shock.

"Pretty much." He picked up his pen, pulling a stack of papers towards him. "Just be careful, Elena."

She nodded, drifting out of the room in a fog. She loved Damon. When had that happened? How had it happened? She hadn't the slightest idea, but the more she thought about the words, the truer they were. Against all odds, all logic, she loved him.

He was waiting when she opened the door to her room, curled into the window seat with the grace of a cat.

"How long have you been there?" Elena asked, hovering uncertainly in the doorway.

"You too, Elena. I love you, too."

They sat together in the window and watched the moon rise.


	7. Pretended

The moon was laughing at her.

How could it have shone so gently last night when she'd sat with Damon in the window seat, only their hands touching, gazing up at its cool, distant face? Sitting there, just for a moment, Elena had been happy. There were still steep mountains to climb, but for an instant, she'd thought that if they were together, they could face them all.

What an idiot she'd been.

Now the moon watched, its bloated, far-off face curled into a mocking smirk as Elena stumbled along the road, the taste of blood in her mouth, the stench of betrayal rising off of her in waves. Too stunned to cry, ghostly images danced before her eyes.

_A sullen girl slouched in the backseat, buzzed and resentful. Her parents exchanging worried glances as they caught the smell of cheap beer. Her mother reaching back to squeeze her knee. A sickening lurch as the car careened and took flight. A scream that never seemed to end, but went on and on and on until it ended with a strangled gurgle as the water rushed in-_

Headlights lanced her eyes. Pure panic ran through her: Klaus? Stefan? A hybrid? There were too many enemies. She didn't even know who she most feared anymore. A figure emerged from the car and ran towards her as she skittered towards the woods that lined the road.

"Elena! Elena, it's me!"

She drew to a halt as Damon approached. But when he reached for her, she pulled away, arms crossed tightly across her chest. "No. Don't. Not now." The thought of his hands on her transported her to other nights, other blood that killed and saved forced down her throat as she choked on the blackness. "Please. Can you just take me home?"

Back lit as he was by the headlights, Elena couldn't make out Damon's face. But his voice was gentle. "Of course. I'm just...I'm just glad you're okay, Elena. I heard Klaus on the phone with Stefan and..." He started to reach for her again, but stopped. "Believe me, Elena, I never thought Stefan would go so far. I never thought it would come to this."

"Yeah, well. He did and it did." She knew she should comfort him, that he was losing his brother even as she was losing her first real love, but she just couldn't. Not now. She was exhausted in body and spirit (and still a little tipsy) and wanted to put as much distance between her and the bridge as she could.

"C'mon. Let's get you home." Again, she saw him stop himself from reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder, to steer her to the car. They reached the vehicle and drove in silence for long moments, Damon casting her worried sidelong glances.

"I keep thinking I should get used to almost dying. That I'll come to terms with the fact that I'm going to die, and probably sooner instead of later," Elena said, staring straight out into the night. "But it doesn't work that way. I was so sure Stefan was going to do it, drive off the bridge and into the water just like..." she swallowed hard. "I was sure he was going to do it, and all I could think of was how much I wanted to live."

"You would have lived. In a way," Damon said quietly.

Maybe that _was_ the solution. Maybe she should just stop fighting it and give in, let Damon slowly drain her until there was nothing left. When she awoke, she'd be safe. She wouldn't be the doppelganger, she wouldn't be soft and vulnerable. If she'd been a vampire, Stefan never could have grabbed her: she'd be fast and strong and immortal.

"_If_ that happens one day, it's going to be on my terms. Not Stefan's, not Klaus', not even yours. Mine. And it won't be out of fear. It'll be for love."

Damon turned to her, eyes wide and dark, hope glinting in their depths. Hesitantly, she reached for him, placing her hand on his where it rested on the gear shift. "One day. Maybe. A really long way off. But right now, I just want to hide until I know all of his blood is gone," she sighed.

"I told you, Elena: we'll play this however you want to play it. I have...thoughts on the issue, but I realized a long time ago that you hating me for eternity wasn't a good long-term strategy." Damon started to turn into Elena's subdivision.

"No. God, no. Not there." Part of her wanted nothing more than to go home, run into her parent's room and bury herself in their bed, telling herself she could still smell her mother's Chanel Number Five on the sheets, still hear her father's electric shaver whining in the background, that nothing had changed. But the larger part of her knew that the ghosts that roamed those halls wouldn't give her peace tonight.

Damon flicked the turn signal off and continued on towards the boarding house. "Talk to me about something else. Anything else. I can't think about what happened tonight anymore. I just can't," Elena pleaded.

Elena watched as he considered and rejected multiple options for light conversational fare before settling on one. "How was Caroline's birthday?"

"She wasn't in the mood to party, so we had a funeral instead." That memory brought a smile to Elena's face. At least she'd done one good deed today. She hoped that Caroline and Tyler hadn't done anything _too _crazy in the woods. She didn't want to see him break her heart again.

"Of course. That's the _obvious_ choice," Damon said dryly. "Judging by the way you smell, it was more of an Irish wake."

"Mexican, actually. Tequila."

Damon wrinkled his nose as they pulled into the long drive of the boardinghouse. "You kids. I'll have to help you cultivate better taste."

Elena couldn't stifle a laugh. "You're amazing."

"True. Why am I amazing in this _particular_ instance?" Damon asked.

"Because tonight, Bonnie called me a manipulative bitch of a sister, I was kidnapped, force-fed vampire blood, and nearly died, but you can still make me laugh and think that maybe all that wasn't so awful compared to the fact that I had to drink _tequila_."

Damon put the car into park and turned towards her more fully. The full force of his tremendous gaze focused solely on her, he drew her hand to his lips and pressed soft kisses to the back, then to her palm. "I'm glad." He held her gaze for an instant longer, and a mischievous smirk crossed his face. "Just tell me you didn't eat the worm."

They disappeared into the house and pretended the world could never find them.


	8. Ruined

_I remain completely blown away by the response to this story. Thank you all so much for reading. I think there's a lot of fun still to be had. We'll follow the show when it makes sense, using it as a framework to explore our favorite couple, but there are some other stories to tell, too. Let's get to it, shall we?_

"Flow from downward facing dog to mountain pose," the woman on the yoga video instructed soothingly. "Be conscious of your breath."

Alaric had suggested adding yoga to Elena's already rigorous fitness regime. "Flexibility can be just as important in a fight as speed or strength," he'd said. "It can help you pull yourself out of tight spots. And it might help relieve some stress, too."

He'd been right. It felt good to focus solely on her body, on each precise movement and subtle shift in weight. Her training regiment was becoming more and more of a solace these days, a way to escape the thoughts that constantly bombarded her and replace them with simple actions.

"I am conscious of my breath," echoed Elena as she rose from her arched position to stand tall. She'd laid her yoga mat in front of the fireplace at the boarding house; she still hadn't been able to spend much time at home. She'd even thought of selling the house, purging the memories once and for all, but she knew she never would. Those memories were important to keep, even if she couldn't bear to live among them.

"Plant your feet firmly. Feel yourself connect to the earth beneath you. Stand as tall and as strong as a mountain," the yoga woman said.

"I am as tall and as strong as a mountain," Elena murmured.

"Yeah you are." Elena's eyes flew open, her mountain crumbling as Damon spoke. His eyes meandered up her body, taking his time, visually caressing every inch of her body from her bare feet to the tip of her ponytail. "I think I still prefer the 'warrior princess' look, but there's something to be said for a girl who can put her legs behind her head."

"Damon. You are ruining my moment of zen," she said sternly, though she couldn't keep the flush off her cheeks.

"You know what ruined _my_ moment of zen today? Caroline threatening to do...uncomfortable things with certain portions of my anatomy if I ever hurt you." Damon came to stand behind her, lips pressing against the nape of her neck. "I let her think she was intimidating."

Elena relaxed against his chest. "How's she doing? With everything?" Hearing about Caroline's own brush with death at Tyler's hands—and subsequent healing from Klaus—had been sobering in the extreme. Tyler could not be trusted. Ever. No matter how badly he wanted to do the right thing, he wasn't pulling the strings anymore.

"Honestly? Great. Weirdly great. She seems better than I've seen her in a long time, in fact. Once we'd established that I was not, in fact, going to break your heart, she started going on about plans for college and studying abroad in Paris." He shrugged. "Go figure. Guess the experience gave her some perspective." He wrapped his arms around her waist, his lips hovering against her ear as he spoke. "By the way, her warning was _completely _unnecessary."

Elena shivered at his nearness, turning in his arms until she faced him. "I know that. She was just trying to help. Thanks for letting her think she's scary. That was incredibly nice of you."

"Don't say that, Elena. You'll ruin my reputation. I don't do _nice._"

"Decent, then. It was incredibly decent of you."

Damon considered this for a moment, then nodded. "We'll go with that. I think my rep can handle it." He smirked down at her. "So what's my prize for being so _decent_ to your friend?"

Elena started to laugh, but it died in her throat. "Whose blood is that on your shirt?" A crumpled area of flaky, rusty red marred his black shirt just around his navel.

Damon released her with a sigh, pulling the shirt away from his body so he could get a better look "I don't suppose you'd believe I spilled my lunch?" When she shook her head, unamused, he shrugged, dropping the shirt. "Stefan and I had a little talk about what happened last night. That's all."

The yoga video on her laptop was still running, its new-age music floating through the air. "Next, we're going to rest in corpse pose-" Elena slammed the laptop closed.

Well, what had she really expected would happen? That Damon would just let the whole thing drop? Not likely. While he'd laid down with her when she'd gone to bed, she'd awoken in the night to find his side of the bed empty, the sound of pacing footsteps echoing through the cavernous house. He'd tried to be strong for her, but she knew the whole bridge incident had affected him deeply.

But at the same time, what was the point of fighting? Elena knew that ultimately, Damon loved Stefan more than anyone else. Even her. "If we get him back, I think it's going to be because he loves you," she'd said once. "Not because he loves me." Now, she didn't think they were ever going to get Stefan back, but she also didn't think Damon would ever be able to drive a stake through Stefan's heart, watch his skin turn to ashes and the light die from his eyes. They'd fight, throw each other into walls, stab each other with makeshift stakes, scream in agony, and nothing would change. There was no real danger for either of them. If it ever came down to it, Elena knew she would have to be the one to put Stefan down.

The whole idea just made her feel tired and so very old. "Are you okay? Is it yours?"

"It's his. He got a couple of good licks in, but it'll be a cold day in hell when my brother beats me in a fight." Damon scowled down at the bloody shirt, then tugged it off over his head and headed for the bedroom. Elena followed. "I don't know that I knocked any sense into him, but it made me feel better, at least."

"I guess that counts for something, though I wish you'd told me you were going to do it. How did you even know where he was? Where's he staying in town?" Elena had been pretty far out of the Stefan loop. She'd preferred it that way, but after last night...well, they should probably be keeping closer tabs on _all _their many enemies.

There was the briefest of hesitations as Damon rummaged through his wardrobe for a new, identical black shirt that cost a minor fortune. But Elena couldn't help but admire the view of his broad, muscled back. "Ran into him at the blood bank. I was running low on B-."

"You fought in public? At the _hospital_?Does everyone in Mystic Falls know about vampires now?"

"No," Damon said with a hint of disgust, pulling the t-shirt over his head. "In the woods behind. We're still in the coffin, Elena, this isn't _True Blood._"

"You don't need to snap at me. I'm just worried about you, Damon. I know that it's even harder for you to see him like this than it is for me."

Damon looked at her, that cocky facade slipping. "Yeah. It's...it's never been like this with him before. Even when he was in his stupid Ripper phases, he was never quite so ruthless. I mean, yeah, he ripped people apart and put them back together, but he didn't _know_ those people. They were just collateral damage. But for him to think of _you_ as collateral damage? That scares me, Elena. I don't know what he'll do next."

Elena crossed the room to him, wrapping her arms around him. He squeezed her back, so tightly her ribs protested, but she didn't budge. She didn't offer words of comfort—she didn't have any to give, and none would be adequate to the task. But she could hold him as he'd held her in her darkest times, and try to give him what strength she could.

They stood locked in the embrace for a timeless moment. Then Damon screamed, a sound that made her blood run cold. He sagged, all the strength suddenly gone from him. She tried to keep her grip on him, to support him, but his dead weight crashed to the ground. He curled into the fetal position, that endless scream still slicing through the air, hands clutching his head.

Elena whirled towards the door to find Bonnie, her face transformed into a mask of cold triumph as she watched Damon writhe in agony.


	9. Compelled

"Bonnie, what are you doing? You have to stop!" Damon's scream was endless, an agonized wail. Elena wanted to fly to his side, to do _something_ to make the pain stop, but she knew that her best bet was to reason with Bonnie.

"Elena, don't you see? I'm doing this for _you_," Bonnie said, her face softening from that terrible hauteur.

"For me? Bonnie, _no. _You're hurting him, you may be killing him. You have to stop!"

"Bonnie," Damon managed, her name elongated into a moan of pain. Incredibly, he was attempting to stand. "I'm gonna-"

"_Stay down,_" Bonnie commanded, flinging her outstretched hand towards him. A fresh scream tore out of Damon's throat as he fell back. Blood trickled from his ears.

"Okay, okay, Bonnie! Why do you think you're doing this for me? Let's talk about this," Elena said, an edge of panic in her voice. Bonnie would see reason. If she could just get her to stop hurting Damon, Elena knew she could make her see sense.

"I figured it out, Elena. Why you've been acting so strangely." Bonnie looked at her with sympathy. "It all started when I took your necklace to destroy it. Your _vervain_ necklace. Damon finally had a chance to compel you, and he took it."

Elena stared at her friend in horror. "No, that's not what's going on, Bonnie. Listen to me-"

"No, Elena, you need to listen. I've been so worried about how you've been acting—first you have him compel your own brother to leave town, then you tell me you're actually _dating_ him? The Elena I know and love would never do those things. Compulsion is the only thing that makes sense. And I know you don't understand it. It's just like Jeremy: you don't realize what really happened."

"I know exactly what happened, Bonnie. Love happened. I sent Jeremy away _because _I love him, and I love Damon enough to risk everything to be with him. There's no compulsion! They're my choices. You may not like them, but they're _mine._ Now stop it!" Damon's screams had quieted to pathetic whimpers. Blood flowed freely from his nostrils.

"I know you believe that," Bonnie said gently. "That's why I'm here. I'm going to help." Her eyes turned towards Damon. "There's only one way to break compulsion." The candles at Damon's bedside erupted into gouts of flame.

"There has to be another way. Isn't there...isn't there some spell you can use to prove that I'm not compelled? I'll do whatever you want, but you have to stop this!" Elena was frantic.

"There's only one way. I'm sorry, Elena, but you'll thank me once you see." Bonnie stretched her hand out to Damon.

There was no more time to think, no more time to reason or bargain. All she could do was act. Elena punched Bonnie in the face.

Alaric would have been so proud. Her form was perfect, her thumb tucked over her index finger, leading with her first two knuckles, wrist perfectly aligned. She hadn't expected quite how much it would hurt to connect with human flesh, the pain as her knuckles scraped over Bonnie's teeth, the sickening _crunch_ as she connected with her nose.

The effect was instantaneous: the flames died, Damon stopped his pitiful moans. Bonnie stared at her in shock, bleeding from a split lip. "Now will you _listen_? Every choice that you hate so much? That was all me. The Elena you knew is dead, Bonnie. The new Elena has to make hard decisions. And if you can't handle that, you need to get the hell out."

Blood dripped from Bonnie's chin. Her eyes narrowed. She nodded once, turned, and left. Elena held her breath until she heard the front door slam behind her. Then she flung herself to her knees beside Damon. "Damon, Damon, can you hear me? Are you all right?"

His eyes were closed, a sheen of sweat coating his face. He was pale, the lines of blood on his face standing out in stark relief. "Elena...?" He managed.

"Just hang on a minute, Damon. I'll be right back. Just hold on." Elena tore through the house, making her way to the basement. Thank God Damon had just picked up more blood. She threw the freezer open, snatching two bags at random from the neatly arranged rows before reversing course and flying back to him. She settled his head in her lap, fumbling as she attempted to open the damn bags.

"Elena. You're bleeding," Damon whispered.

She glanced at her right hand. Sure enough, the skin on her knuckles had been torn away, a thin rivulet of blood trickling down her wrist. "And you just had a ten minute aneurism. Let's prioritize here." She ripped the tubing open, spattering herself with a fine mist of red in the process. Then she slipped the tube between his lips like an obscene crazy straw. He drank greedily.

By the time the bag was gone, Damon was able to sit up, and color was returning to his cheeks. He reached for the second bag. "One more. Then I'm going after her." His voice shook with fury.

"No you aren't. The exact same thing will happen all over again, only she might finish the job this time. She needs some time to cool off, to think about all this. Then she'll be okay." Elena cast a worried glance at the door, as if the witch might reappear at any moment. "But...I've never seen her like that before."

"Oh really? Because I have. You know, like that time she set me on fire. Or the time she tried to trap me in the tomb. Or the time-"

"Okay, okay. I guess I have, but I really thought she'd do it this time." Elena didn't have enough friends left to lose one. Especially not one who'd always been as loyal as Bonnie had. But was it really so hard to believe she'd love Damon, that she could forgive him for the sins of the past? Did she act like a woman compelled?

"Yeah, she was taking that migraine thing to the next level." Damon dabbed at a spot below his nose, looking at his bloody fingers with disgust. He picked up the empty blood bags, climbing to his feet with some difficulty. He disappeared with them into the bathroom, returning with a clean face, a damp washcloth, and the first aid kit.

"How did you get her to leave, anyway? I missed some of the finer points of the conversation while my brain was melting." He settled down next to her on the floor, taking her hand.

"Um. I kind of...punched her. In the face." Elena was still having trouble processing the fact that she'd punched anyone, let alone her best friend. But she had. And it had worked. And deep down, in some tiny part of her that she was ashamed to admit existed? It had felt good.

Damon looked up at her in surprise. "You _punched_ her? And I missed it?" He wiped the blood from the back of her hand, examining the scrape more closely "That's how you got this?"

"Yeah. I didn't know what else to do. She was crazy, Damon. I thought she was going to kill you. But I guess she realized I was serious after that...I don't know. I don't know why she left, or what she's planning now." Damon swabbed antibiotic cream over her knuckles. She sighed. "I can't believe she thought you were compelling me. Even when you were being a complete jerk to me you never did that."

There was a long moment of silence as Damon packed the items back into the first aid kit. He turned towards her, damp washcloth in hand. Gently, he began wiping the freckles of blood from her cheeks. He wouldn't meet her eyes. "I did. Once."

"You—what?" She grabbed his hand, stopping his ministrations. "You _compelled _me?"

"I'm not proud of it, Elena." He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "When Elijah kidnapped you, and Stefan and I rescued you from that creepy old mansion? That night, I came to see you."

"My necklace—that's how I got my necklace back. I never knew where it came from," Elena said, the pieces suddenly falling into place.

He nodded. "I came to give it back to you. And I guess Bonnie was right: when there was an opportunity for me to catch you without your necklace, to compel you, I took it."

"What...what did you do? Damon, I need to know." Elena knew she was a hypocrite where compulsion was concerned. Twice she'd asked Damon to compel Jeremy, and she still believed that in both instances, it was the only option, the best thing for him. But when it came to her? Compulsion was a violation, a subversion of free will. The idea that he'd once done that to her, and that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remember when or why or how it had happened? That made her skin crawl.

"Do we have to do this, Elena?" He finally met her eyes, a thousand unspoken memories swimming in their depths. "I promise it was nothing bad. I swear to you. But please, let's not do this."

"Yes, we have to do this! What did you do, Damon? You said you always wanted it to be real between us. God, is all this a lie? Is what I feel for you—is that all because of what you _made_ me feel?" She stood, needing some distance between them. Her chest was tight.

"No! Elena, I would never—it's all been real. Everything is real. I just...I had to tell you. I had to tell you I loved you." He rose, but kept a respectful distance from her. "But you couldn't know. Not then. It wasn't right. But I couldn't keep that secret inside of me anymore, Elena."

"That's all you did? You just made me to forget what you told me?" Relief washed over her. What he'd done still wasn't _okay,_ but she could deal with it. She could accept it. He hadn't made her some kind of grotesque puppet, hadn't made her love him.

"That's all. If I could give you those memories back now, if I could show you, I would. But it doesn't work like that. I've never done it again, Elena. I swear. I never will. I _do _want it to be real. It _is _real. For me, it's sometimes the only real thing in the world." He looked at her, and she saw fear in his eyes. Fear that she would hate him for this, that she'd turn her back on him and leave him here all alone.

"You didn't have to tell me. I never would have known otherwise. But if you _ever_ do that again, for any reason, what Bonnie did to you will look like a cakewalk." She approached him, and he eyed her warily.

"Are you...are you gonna punch me?" he asked.

She smiled grimly. "No, you idiot." She kissed him then, her hands cradling his face. "Don't make me regret it."


	10. Stripped

_Holy cow, we're on chapter ten! To think this all started as a one-shot drabble of less than 500 words. Thank you all so much for your subscriptions, your reviews, your encouragement and your criticism. I'm having so much fun—I hope you are, too._

Elena slammed the door with all her might, taking some small satisfaction as the house rattled. She threw her book bag into a corner and stomped into the living room, her face a storm cloud.

Damon was rifling through a bookcase, looking for something. He glanced up in surprise at her little tantrum. "Bad day?"

"You could say that," she muttered, throwing herself onto the couch.

His eyebrows knit together in concern as he abandoned his search, crossing the room towards her. "Was it Bonnie? Surely she didn't try anything at school."

"No, she wasn't even there." Elena wasn't sure if she was relieved or frightened by Bonnie's absence. She knew it wasn't over between them. Bonnie could hold a grudge forever. Sooner or later they'd have to finish what they started. Elena could only hope that Bonnie could get the insane idea of compulsion out of her head. Or at least cut the witch bullshit.

"And it wasn't Klaus, right? Last thing he would do right now is hurt you, after all the trouble he went through to save you," Damon said, sitting on the other end of the couch, giving her some space.

"No sign of Klaus," Elena confirmed bitterly. "He wouldn't want to hurt his little blood bag, after all."

Damon's face darkened. "It was Stefan, wasn't it? I swear, I'll-"

"I haven't seen Stefan since the night on the bridge, Damon." So many enemies. It was like living with a bundle of swords suspended over her head. At any moment, on any day, any one of them could drop and strike her dead. Every day that passed without one falling was worse than the last, the incredible anticipation and anxiety building and building, stretching her tight like a wire. "Look, it's nothing. You'll think it's stupid. Let's talk about something else. How was _your _day?" She tried to push her irritation aside, to pull herself together.

"My day? It was fine. Great. Stupendous. _Elena,_" he said, scooting closer to her. "Just tell me what's wrong, I'll go kick its ass, and you and I can enjoy a rare evening in which neither one of us has a brush with death." Damon knocked on the wooden coffee table, just in case.

Elena hesitated. "It _is _stupid. Compared to everything you just mentioned, it's so tiny."

"Spit it out, Elena," Damon ordered impatiently.

"I got a D," Elena admitted. "There. See how stupid it is? I got a D." She turned to bury her face against a couch cushion.

"You got...a D? In school? On a paper?" Damon asked, puzzled.

"A test," Elena said, voice muffled by the pillow.

Damon was silent. When she needed comforting after nearly being driven off a bridge? Damon was all over it. But dealing with high school issues? He was a little out of his depth. He rested his hand on her back. "It can't be _that _bad."

She turned towards him. "It's exactly that bad. I had okay grades my first two years of high school, but then with my parents and...everything else, they've fallen. But they were still good enough, but I just bombed that Bio test. And if I can't keep my grades up, I can't go to college. And that means I'll be flipping burgers the rest of my pathetic life." She hid in the pillow again. There. He was going to think she was so stupid. Like any of this mattered-she probably wouldn't survive the week.

"Now, stop that." Damon gently pulled her out of the pillow. "I don't think one test has totally ruined your life."

"Oh, what do you know? You didn't even go to high school," Elena said. Her eyes widened suddenly, and she clamped a hand over her mouth. "Oh my gosh, Damon. I didn't mean it like that."

He smiled, eyes a little wistful. "Yeah. You're right. I had governesses and tutors. They just hit me with rods when I got the answer wrong. That's nothing compared with having to flip burgers forever." He poked her gently in the ribs. "Go get your Bio stuff. Go on."

Eying him warily, she stood and got her book bag, dragging it back to him. She produced a battered exam, a giant _D_ scrawled in red. For a long moment, she hid the paper, clutching it to her chest. What if he thought she was dumb? She sighed and pushed it towards him.

"A scarlet letter. How poetic." He examined the test in detail, flipping through every page. "There's no reason you can't do this, Elena. It's just Linnaean taxonomy. It's straight memorization. You just didn't have enough time to study."

Elena gaped at him. "You...you know Biology?"

Damon grinned. "Some of it. The parts that interested me. Or the parts my cute governess taught me. Mmm, Miss Patmore..." He smiled at some long-ago memory. "But yeah, I liked Biology. I read _On the Origin of Species _right after it came out. Survival of the fittest got a lot more interesting after I was turned, that's for sure." He threw the test onto the table. "So here's what we're gonna do. _You_ are going to make flash cards and _I _am going to quiz you on them." His eyes lit up. "Ooh, we could play strip flash cards! Every time you get an answer wrong, you have to remove an article of clothing." He tugged playfully at the hem of her shirt. "And when you get an answer _right-_"

Elena looked at him, head canted to the side. "You...you'd do that? For me?"

"Elena, I'd do anything with you that involved the word _strip._" His eye-thinging was out of control.

"Well, obviously. But you'd study with me? You'd help me with something that's so...mundane?"

Damon brushed a strand of hair out of her face, letting the long strands glide through his fingers. "There's going to come a day when we aren't going to have to fight anymore, Elena. When we don't have to spend every day out of our minds with fear or every night just trying to make it until sunrise. And I can't _wait _for that day, when we can just be together and do normal, boring things. Because it will never, ever be mundane or boring if I'm with you. You asked me if I'd follow you to college? Elena, I'll follow you to that burger joint you see in your future or anywhere else you want to lead. It doesn't matter what we're doing or where we are. Any day with you is worth a hundred years of the life I've led up 'til now."

Elena stared at his earnest, honest face. He meant it. He meant every word. It wasn't the danger he loved, not the adrenaline that seemed to follow whenever they were together. He genuinely wanted to be with her, when times were good and when times were bad and when times just _were_. He really did.

She pushed him back onto the couch with one hand, pressing her body against his. And she kissed him, earnestly and honestly. Damon's hands ran up and down her sides, tracing her curves, his weight solid and steady beneath her. When they finally broke for air, he smirked up at her.

"So that's a 'yes' to strip flash cards?"


	11. Doubted

_The good news: To thank you all for sticking with me through all this, I'll be writing a one-off describing exactly what happened between Damon and Elena in their tutoring session (thanks to faithful reviewer Nymphadora for the idea). The bad news: It won't happen until this weekend, and this chapter is decidedly lacking in fluffy bunnies. But it's always darkest before the dawn. Please enjoy._

The front door slamming shut woke Elena. She blinked blearily around the room, then burrowed back under the covers. No. No way was she getting out of bed yet. It was Saturday, and she and Damon had spent most of the night studying. She bit her lip, smiling as she recalled just how effective his study methods had been.

It felt strange and sinful to lie there, not to rush off to rescue someone or thwart some coming evil, just to be able to close her eyes and let her thoughts drift on a sleepy Saturday morning. Granted, that would have been much more pleasant if Damon had still been in bed, but she'd make do. She was content to doze in a pleasant fog until she heard a familiar voice downstairs. It was distant and muffled, but she couldn't mistake Stefan's voice.

"Okay. I'm here. What do you want?" he asked flatly. All his words now were so curiously devoid of emotion, so empty of anything except hate and bitterness. So different from the brooding Stefan who seemed to feel everything more keenly than anyone she'd ever met. She still missed him, and suspected she always would. He was her first great, epic, sweeping love, the first man who'd made her feel alive and precious and desired and loved. No matter what kind of monster he was now, she could never forget the sweet, noble, kind boy he had been.

"I just think it's time we had a heart-to-heart, brother. One that doesn't involve sharp, pointy objects for a change," Damon said. "Sit down, let me pour you a drink."

Elena froze. He was going to tell Stefan! This was the moment he'd been waiting for, the words he'd been carefully crafting? He hadn't breathed a word of it last night. Quiet as a mouse, Elena slid out of bed and tip-toed to the closed door. She didn't dare open it—damn vampire hearing—but she pressed her ear against the door, not wanting to miss a word.

"Oh, were you going to tell me you're fucking Elena? Because Bonnie told me all about that," Stefan drawled, bored and disinterested. Elena felt like she'd been punched in the gut, like all the air had been forced from her body. "You know, it's funny. She seemed to think I'd actually _care_. I think she only told me because she thought I'd kill you for it." Footsteps. "But Damon, I'm not going to do that. I'm happy for you. It's nice that you get to have my sloppy seconds. Again."

Elena ripped the door open, half running, half falling out of the room and down the stairs. She could have predicted the scene before she laid eyes on it: Damon had Stefan by the throat, pressing him against a bookshelf, the younger Salvatore's feet dangling off the ground.

"Damon, no!" Elena cried.

"Get back upstairs, Elena. This is a family discussion; it doesn't concern you," Damon said coldly, not sparing her a glance.

"Come on, Damon," Stefan gasped. "There's no reason we can't share, just like we did with Kath-"

Damon released his grasp, sending Stefan crashing to the ground. Damon began to kick his younger brother as he lay on the floor, those stylish Italian shoes connecting with Stefan's ribs, the sound of splintering bone and squelching organs overlaid by the solid impact of Damon's foot again and again and again...

Elena ran towards the horrific scene, grabbing Damon's arm with both hands. "Stop!"

He shook her off, never pausing in his attack. She tried again, shoving his shoulder, trying to turn him away from Stefan's prone form. "You have to stop it! Damon, it's _Stefan!" _That got his attention: he stopped his assault, turning to stare at her for a long moment, eyes full of blood. He nodded, as if with sudden understanding.

"I was an idiot to think anything would change" Damon's gaze darted between Elena and Stefan's crumpled body. Then he shook his head. "Fuck you. Fuck _both_ of you." And he was gone.

Elena stared at the place Damon had been. She didn't understand. None of it made sense. Damon had been so good, so in control lately. He really had been changing. But then to see him snap so quickly, to lose his cool over his brother's stupid insults...well, maybe that should be expected. But for him to turn on _her? _She hadn't foreseen that, and she sure as hell didn't understand it.

Stefan climbed to his feet, grinning at her through teeth stained with his own blood. "Well, I think that went well, don't you?" Elena's stomach roiled as she heard his ribs cracking, saw the bones rearranging under his tattered, torn shirt.

"Just shut up, Stefan," Elena said, looking around the living room, as if it might give her some clue about where Damon had gone.

"Don't worry, I'm leaving." He turned towards the door, then paused. "I expected this from him. But you?" For an instant, Elena could see the old Stefan shining through, vulnerable and sensitive as a sigh. "I expected more from you." Then he, too, was gone.

* * *

><p>He wasn't at the town green. Or the Grille. Or Alaric's apartment. Or anywhere. She roamed the woods around the boarding house, calling his name until she was hoarse. His car still sat in the driveway, so she knew he couldn't have gone far. Out of options, she returned to the boarding house and waited. And waited.<p>

She wanted to be sick. She wanted to kill Bonnie. She wanted to cry. She wanted to kill Stefan. She couldn't be still, pacing every inch of the house. Damon would come back. Wouldn't he? Or would he just run the first time things got tough between them, that their reality didn't meet his romantic dreams?

Worst of all, didn't even understand what had happened. "I was an idiot to think anything would change." What did he mean? She'd only been trying to help. None of it made sense.

The shadows lengthened. Afternoon turned into evening and evening into night. _Klaus has him,_ she realized with a start. _It has to be. Stefan left and did something stupid, and Klaus killed Damon. Or worse—what if he __**sired**_ _him?_ The thought left her cold. She seized her car keys, ready to march over to Klaus' house and...and do _something,_ when the door creaked open and there he was.

"Damon. Thank God, I was so worried." She started to run to him, to fling her arms around him, but then she saw the terrible look in his eyes, scented the heavy smell of bourbon. She stopped, uncertain. "You're drunk."

"You really should be more surprised when I'm _not_ drunk," he said, brushing past her. "But in this case, I have a socially acceptable reason to be wasted. Why are you still here?" Seizing the decanter, Damon poured two generous fingers of bourbon, then downed it like water.

"What do you mean, 'why am I here'? I spent all day looking for you! I thought you were dead in a ditch somewhere, Damon. What _happened?_"

More bourbon gurgled into his glass, but he didn't down it right away this time. He turned to look at her, and for a split-second, Elena saw every one of his years etched onto his face in lines of grief and pain and despair. "'You have to stop,'" he mimicked cruelly. "'Damon, it's _Stefan._'" He snorted. "That sounds familiar. You worded it a little differently last time, though. How did you put it?" He pretended to search for the words. "Oh, right. 'It's Stefan, it's always going to be Stefan!'" More bourbon disappeared. "Go home, Elena. Or go find Stefan. That's what you really want."

Elena stared. "You think I want to be with Stefan? That's what you thought I meant? That I couldn't stand to watch you hurt him? That's why you stomped out of here like a spoiled brat?"

"Spare me the lecture, Elena. Go, do what you always do: go save the bad boy from himself, ease his suffering, make him see the hero deep inside." He sneered, but it melted from his face. "The worst part is, I believed you. I believed that you could really be with me, that you could really love me like I loved you. That's the worst part."

"Damon, you don't know what you're saying," Elena whispered.

"I know what I _saw_, Elena." He rounded on her, eyes blazing, nostrils flaring. "I saw-"

"You saw me trying to save you from killing your brother," Elena interrupted. "Yeah, Damon. That's exactly what I said: It's _Stefan,_ and you could never forgive yourself if you lost your temper and killed him because of _me. _And if you hadn't run away like a coward, I could have told you that and I wouldn't have spent all afternoon thinking you were dead and you wouldn't be drunk and pathetic."

The words kept tumbling out; she was on a roll now, couldn't stop herself. "But you go ahead, you believe the worst. You believe no one can ever love you. You're damaged goods, right? Well newsflash, Damon: So am I. And I still love you. In spite of everything, I love you. But what's going to come between us isn't your stupid asshole brother, Damon. It's _you._"

She had to stop then—she ran out of breath. Elena wasn't sure which of them was more surprised by the outburst. Damon's face fell, all the anger visibly ebbing out of him. He swayed on his feet. "That...that's all true, isn't it?"

Elena shook her head in disgust. "Yes, Damon. Of course it's true." She turned to the door. "I'll see you around."

"You're leaving? Elena, don't go."

"You need to sleep it off, Damon. And you need to figure out what you really want—if you can get out of your own way and love me. Because Damon? I _chose_ you. Not Stefan." She sighed. "Goodnight."

She didn't look back; she knew if she did, she'd stay. But she kept her back straight and her head high as she walked away, returning to a night of tears in a house full of ghosts.


	12. Chosen

_Whew, guys! These last couple of chapters have been tough to write, so thank you for your encouragement. It keeps me going. There will be no new chapter tomorrow (Thursday) so I can have a little break and we can all enjoy the new episode, but I'll be back on Friday. Please enjoy!_

"Didn't we decide this was creepy?" Elena asked. She lay in bed, eyes closed, but sleep hadn't found her last night. Maybe she'd dozed for a while, falling into fitful dreams that vanished the moment she awoke, but most of the night was spent staring at the ceiling, replaying the scenes of the day over and over again. The soft _swoosh_ of the window opening and the light tread of feet hitting the floor alerted her to a visitor.

"It's okay because you're awake. Had you actually been asleep, it would have been creepy," Damon said.

"Oh, good. Glad we dodged that bullet." Elena finally opened her eyes. Damon hovered near the window as if unsure he was welcome, his figure outlined by the dawn.

Neither spoke for an eternity. They simply watched each other like wary adversaries, both too proud to make the first move.

"Damon," Elena started. "I- Oh, get over here. I'm not going to bite you." She sat up, scooting over to give him room on the bed next to her. He hesitated only a moment before joining her, perching awkwardly on the edge of the bed instead of reclining like he normally did. Resolutely, she turned his face towards her, fingers warm against his cool cheek. "I said a lot of things yesterday. Some of them...were kinda low blows. But the one thing you should listen to, the one thing you should believe, is that I love you."

Slowly, his eyes rose to meet hers. "I know that. I think. I mean, I _do_ know it. Intellectually. But sometimes what I know and what I feel don't always line up." He sighed. "You have to understand, Elena: Stefan always got everything I ever wanted. Didn't matter if it was toys or friends or women, if I really wanted it, Stefan got it. And let's not even get into my textbook daddy issues." Damon stroked the back of her hand tentatively. "So it's...an adjustment for me to realize that for once, someone chose me. " He swallowed hard. "And I'm scared, Elena. So scared that if Stefan ever snaps out of it and starts playing the golden boy, that you'll run right back to him." His face was resigned to the inevitability of Stefan's next victory.

Elena's first inclination was to rush to reassure him, to tell him that she loved him now, would always love him no matter what happened. That's how she felt sitting with him at this very moment, but she was too much of a realist to think nothing would ever change. If Stefan did wake up tomorrow, see the error of his ways and beg for her forgiveness, did she really know what she'd do?

But, the way she felt with Damon was so different from anything she'd experienced with his little brother. In a way, she thought it was a more grown-up kind of love, a love tinged with darkness but worth fighting for anyway. But she couldn't discount what she'd felt for Stefan. That had been real, too.

"I can't lie, Damon. I love Stefan. If all of this hadn't happened, if Klaus hadn't taken him, I'd probably still be with him." Damon's eyes were full of quiet acceptance: he was expecting the ax to fall, for her to tell him that he was just something to do until Stefan came to his senses. She hastened to continue.

"But you can't compare the two of you. Stefan was my first real love, and he'll always be that. But something about being with him wasn't real, Damon. When I'm with you, I don't have to hide. I can just be who I am, even when I don't like who I am very much." She smiled. "I love you because you don't put me on a pedestal. Because you can make me laugh. Because there's some darkness in me that sees the same in you. And if I had to make a choice between puppy love and whatever _this_ is? Damon, I choose this. As much as it hurts sometimes, I choose us."

Surprise flared, and then faded into something softer, the barest tips of his fingers brushing her cheek. "God, I love you, even though I don't deserve you."

"Not really your call, Damon," she said, her hand capturing his. "The three of us will _always _love each other, and that will mean things will always be hard. But will you at least give me a chance to explain next time, before you run off and get plastered?"

He gave a sheepish little grimace. "Not my finest hour. None of it was, from start to finish. I was an idiot to do it with you in the house. I thought I was prepared—I _knew_ he'd say those things. I'd played it all out in my head, exactly how it would go." He paused. "The version in my head had less kicking, though. I'm sorry you had to see that."

"But not sorry you did it," Elena noted dryly.

"I wasn't going to _kill_ him, Elena," he said, as if mildly offended by the idea. "I didn't break out the flamethrower or anything. What I did to him...that's like a handshake for vampires," he smirked, scooping her up and settling her down in his lap facing him, feet splayed on either side of his hips. "There wasn't even any staking."

Elena started to rise to the bait, but broke off, shaking her head. "I'm going to let that stupid comment go for right now, and admit that I may have been overly dramatic in thinking you'd kill him. Just a little."

He flashed one of those rare smiles that transformed his whole face into a vision of innocent happiness. "Look at that. Both of us admitting we're wrong? Satan must be ice skating as we speak." He leaned in to kiss her, but stopped mere inches from her lips. "Say it again," he breathed. "Tell me you love me."

"I love you, Damon Salvatore." She kissed him, softly and sweetly. "Believe it."

"I'm starting to," he murmured, diving in to kiss her again in a way that was neither sweet nor gentle, but recalled their kiss on the porch, when all thought dissolved and everything fell away except his lips on hers, his tongue probing, his hands under her shirt, painting bolts of electricity across her skin.

His lips broke away from hers, tracing kisses down her neck, along her collar bone. He was starting to tug her shirt upwards when there was a gentle knock on the door. The pair froze.

"Elena? I know it's none of my business, but I heard you come in last night," Alaric said awkwardly from the other side of the door. He'd heard her crying, he meant. She hadn't exactly been stealthy about it. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay?"

Elena was struggling to suppress her giggles. Damon was staring at the door with such fury, she was certain it would burst into flames. Poor Ric. He had no idea what he'd just done. "Ric, yeah," she called a little breathlessly. "That's really nice of you, but everything's fine. I'll be down in a minute, okay? I'll catch you up."

"Yeah, okay." Footsteps retreated down the stairs. Elena rolled off of Damon, unable to keep her laughter under wraps any longer.

"Your _face,_" she gasped.

"Ha. Ha. Hilarious," Damon deadpanned. He loomed over her for a moment, then lowered his head, pressing his lips to the bare skin just above the waistband of her skimpy sleep shorts. Her flesh leapt under his touch, her stomach tightening with anticipation. "Just you wait. You'll get yours." His words were a promise; his eyes were a threat. In a flash, he was standing, rearranging his clothing. "Go ahead. I'll be at the door in a minute. Wouldn't want to miss this family bonding moment." He spirited away out the window.

Watching the curtains blow in the breeze behind him, Elena couldn't wait for him to make good on the threat.


	13. Bonded

"Hi Mr. Saltzman! Is Elena home?" Damon asked in a playful falsetto before brushing past Alaric into the house. "How's it going, Ric?" he added in his normal voice, giving his friend a light punch on the shoulder. Judging by the teacher's wince, the tap was a lot harder than it looked.

"Damon," Elena warned as she walked down the stairs. "Be nice."

"Yeah, what the hell was that for?" Alaric asked, baffled.

"No reason," Damon said, shooting Elena a secret smile.

Alaric's eyes darted between the pair. Finally, he shook his head. "I can't deal with this without coffee. Might need bourbon, too." He shuffled into the kitchen.

Elena gave Damon her own love tap on the shoulder. He was kind enough to fake a convincing look of pain. "Unless you want to explain to Ric _what _he interrupted, you probably shouldn't punish him for it," she said.

"Oh, I have no problems telling Ric what was going on. He's not _my _teacher-slash-father-figure-slash-roommate. Besides, I'm pretty sure he'll figure it out that we aren't just holding hands when we're together." He paused, a frown appearing between his eyes. "Even if that's mostlywhat we've been doing." 

With a few notable exceptions, he was right. She was making a concerted effort to be with him with all her mind and spirit, but when it came to adding her whole _body _to the equation, things continued to be complicated. But every day, Elena lost a little more of her fear of disappointing him, of boring him, her fear that he would lose control and drain her to the dregs. Every day, she took one step closer.

She opened her mouth to explain all this, to thank him for his patience and understanding, when his phone buzzed. Damon fished it out of his pocket and sighed. "Stefan. I better see what he wants. I'll catch up."

Elena's eyebrows raised in surprise, but she shrugged and headed for the kitchen. That phone call wasn't something she really wanted to hear anyway. Stefan's words were still raw in her memory. _I expected more from you. _Well, she'd expected a hell of a lot more from _him_, too. As if he had any right to talk: he killed without a thought, cared nothing for Jeremy's safety, and had nearly killed her. But she was a horrible person because she was trying to move on?The sheer _nerve_.

The smell of coffee filled the kitchen. Alaric stood with both the fridge and freezer open, frowning at their contents. "Looks like it's leftover pizza or-" he pulled a box of frozen waffles from the freezer. "My specialty."

"Waffles sound great, Ric. Thanks." Elena slid onto one of the benches at the table. Alaric shut the fridge and started poking through drawers to find the toaster, conspicuously avoiding Elena's gaze.

"So...about what happened last night," he started. Elena smiled. Ric would rather face a ravenous horde of vampires than discuss feelings with her. She couldn't really blame him.

"Yeah. Damon and I had our first real fight, that's all." She paused, not sure how much detail she needed to go into. "And Stefan knows, now. About us. So at least that's out in the open. Which is good, even if it wasn't really great at the time."

"I guess it had to happen sooner or later." The coffee pot buzzed and Ric jumped for it like it was dispensing manna from heaven, pouring three full mugs. Elena accepted one gratefully. "Everything okay between the two of them? I know Stefan's been saying he doesn't care about anything except Klaus now, but...I still kinda expected he'd throw a punch or something when he found out."

"Nope. Said he couldn't care less. And it wasn't _Stefan_ who threw the punch," she said, wrapping her hands around the steaming mug.

"Oh. _Oh," _Ric said with sudden understanding. _"_Was that what the fight was about?" He shoved a couple of waffles into the toaster. "Not that you have to tell me any of this. I just thought you might...might want someone to talk to, sometimes."

"I do, Ric. I appreciate everything you've done for us. I know Jeremy does, too. And yeah, that's what it was about. Kinda. But we're okay now. We got through it."

"Dammit. I'm missing bonding _and _waffles? Stefan has the worst timing," Damon said as he sauntered back into the room. "And as much as I hate to break up this heart-warming scene, we need to talk. All of us."

"Is everyone okay? Did something happen?" Elena asked.

Damon snagged a cup of coffee and took a sip. "Didn't break out the bourbon yet? You might want to reconsider."

"Enough dramatic foreshadowing, just tell us what happened," Alaric said.

Damon hesitated. "I know where the coffins are. So does Bonnie. We've been working with the dead witches to keep them hidden from Klaus. Well, we were until Bonnie tried to kill me. Twice."

"Wait, Bonnie tried to kill you?" Ric asked.

"I'll fill you in later. Anyway, we've got Elijah and two other brothers. But there's this fourth coffin that's a mystery. It's spelled shut, and all of Klaus' other siblings are accounted for. There's _gotta _be someone important in there, but we can't get at it. Apparently Bonnie has decided her long-lost mom is the answer to all our problems and tracked her down in middle-of-nowhere, North Carolina. She and Stefan are headed down there now."

Absolute silence settled over the kitchen. The toaster popped, startling all three of them. No one moved to claim the waffles.

"You kept this from us? How long have you known?" Elena asked.

"A while. It was on a need-to-know basis, Elena. The fewer people who knew, the fewer people Klaus could rip into confetti to make them talk," Damon said without a trace of remorse. "But you can yell at me about that later. I'm going to hit the road, head down to NC and make sure those idiots don't manage to fuck this up worse than they already have." He looked at Elena. "Wanna come?"

"Yes. But you're not." 

"Uh, yeah I am. Look, I wasn't even supposed to _tell_ you about all this. I can't just let you waltz down there by yourself."

"If you go, you're just going to make everything worse. How are you really going to help either of them? Bonnie and I may be in a fight right now, but she's still my best friend. She hasn't seen her mom since she was really little. She needs someone there to make sure she's okay. And if you and Stefan get into another pissing match at a critical moment? No, I'm going by myself. Someone needs to stay and keep an eye on Klaus, anyway," Elena said, her tone brooking no argument.

Damon gave her a long, measuring look, eyes playing over her face. Then he gave one of those cold little smiles that didn't extend to his eyes. "Fine. Have fun." He turned to Ric. "Waffles?" he asked hopefully.

Elena shook her head and ran upstairs to grab her purse. When she returned, Damon was waiting in the foyer. "Promise me you'll be careful. Not just with Bonnie's mom or whatever freak show is going on down there. You have to keep an eye on Bonnie and Stefan, too. Especially when they're together, they can be _very_ tricky."

"I know, Damon. I know. But I can't avoid my best friend forever, and Stefan isn't going to disappear from either of our lives," she pointed out. "Maybe this will be good. We'll get to clear the air without..."

"Without me getting in the way. I got it," Damon said.

"Hopefully with less kicking and witch migraines at least," Elena allowed. She hugged him close. "I'll be back soon. You and Ric can do guy stuff. It'll be good for you."

"Hm. Yeah. There _is_ something I need to do for Ric," Damon said. Then he looked down at her, raising her chin so he could kiss her. "Come home safely, Elena."

"I'll do my best. But just in case? I love you," she said. Then she slipped from his arms and began the long drive into Bonnie's past.


	14. Splintered

_Hey guys! If you're curious about exactly what happens when you play strip flash cards with Damon, you might want to check out "Flashed." I didn't like how it fit with the flow of the larger story, so I made it its own separate fic. Or, just sit back, pour yourself a glass of blood, and enjoy this new chapter. _

Blood oozed around her fingers as she dug into Stefan's flesh with a sickening _squish. _Elena had seen this day ending in plenty of ways, but she hadn't foreseen digging wooden buckshot out of her ex's chest. Obviously she lacked imagination.

"Just get them out, Elena," Stefan gritted through clenched teeth.

"I'm trying. Shut up and stop moving," she ordered. It wasn't easy to pluck the tiny fragments from his chest without accidentally sending one plunging into his heart. Amazing: vampires could live a thousand years, survive being starved, beaten, and shot, but a splinter could end their immortal existence. The Original Witch had a great sense of humor.

"Got it." Elena managed to pinch the sliver between her fingers, drawing it out of Stefan's chest. She wiped her hands together in a vain attempt to remove the blood. "That's the last of it." She stood and began to walk away, already dismissing him. She'd arrived just in time to see Bonnie dragged away by a woman—presumably her mother—and in spite of everything that had happened in the past week, Elena still wasn't going to let anything happen to her friend. Bonnie didn't deserve that. Being tied to a pole by a compelled stranger had delayed her rescue attempt, but Elena wasn't about to give up.

"Where are you going?" Stefan asked, struggling to his feet.

"To find Bonnie," Elena said as she marched to her car.

"You have no idea where she is, Elena. Stop, we need to talk," Stefan said, his footsteps close behind her.

"We don't have time to _talk._ There's nothing to say, anyway." The last thing Elena needed right now was a heart-to-heart with Stefan. Get Bonnie. Figure out what Klaus was up to. Go home. That was the plan. There was no time for detours.

"You don't even know where she is." Stefan stepped in front of her, cutting off her path. He thrust his cell phone towards her. "Look, I got a text. She's okay. I'll go pick her up. Now will you slow down and talk to me for a minute?"

Elena glanced at the text long enough to confirm his story and note where Bonnie was waiting. Fine. She crossed her arms across her chest. "So talk."

"I was wrong. I shouldn't have kidnapped you. What happened on the bridge...that was too far. I went too far," Stefan said. Green eyes caught hers, and she saw the briefest glimpse of the boy she'd once loved.

"Yeah. It was. I accept your apology. Was that it?" Elena said, starting to move around him and towards the car. He blocked her path again.

"I was wrong about that. It never should have happened. But I wasn't wrong about Damon. You're better than him." A look of pain flickered across his face. "You're better than both of us."

Elena shook her head. "You know, he said almost the same thing to me. He said, 'I don't deserve you.' But you know what? I don't care what anyone _deserves_ or who I'm better than. All I know is what I want. And what I want? Is him. So thanks for your apology, Stefan, but I know I'm just Katherine 2.0 to you. Sloppy seconds, right? But he doesn't see me like that." She broke away and stomped to her car. There he was again, putting her on a pedestal. All because he couldn't stand to see Damon happy. She jerked the door open.

"You can't trust him, Elena. Sooner or later, he'll turn on you," Stefan said.

"Oh, so that's something you two have in common? Go to hell, Stefan." Elena peeled out of the driveway.

* * *

><p>Damon was waiting for her at the door of the boarding house. She was in his arms before the door even shut behind her. "I never should have let you go," he said between kisses. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He pulled away from her, examining her minutely as if she were somehow hiding a grievous injury from him. He scowled when he caught sight of her rope-chaffed wrists.<p>

Elena pulled her hands away from him, tugging her jacket down to cover the red lines. "I'm _fine_, Damon. Everything is fine. I took care of it." The day had been terrible. Awful. Really bad. Between Stefan and an awkward car ride home with Bonnie, it was a day to forget. But defending herself, taking out Jamie and saving Stefan? That had felt good. For once, she was the one doing the saving. "Besides, if you hadn't have been here, Klaus would have won. He would have gotten everything. Did you get all the coffins?"

Damon shook his head, leading her into the living room. "Just one. The lock box. I didn't have time to get them all, so I figured that was the thing that'd piss him off the most." They flopped down onto one of the couches. Elena reached for the full glass that sat on the end table, raising it to her lips. After the day she'd had, she needed a drink. But Damon snatched it out of her hand. "No, no, no. You don't want that one." When the liquid moved, she saw that it wasn't a dark whiskey after all. It was blood.

She made a face. "Yeah. Not so much."

"Sorry. Ric's new squeeze blood-jacked me today. I'm still recovering." He stood, heading to the decanters to fix her a drink.

"Wait, what? No part of that sentence made any sense," Elena said.

"I know, right?" Damon shook his head as he added a splash of water to a glass and topped it off with bourbon. "Apparently, Ric's been getting friendly with Meredith Fell. _Doctor _Meredith Fell."

"Oh. Huh. That's good, I guess. I know he loved Aunt Jenna, but he can't spend his whole life missing her. It'd be nice if he dated someone who didn't wind up a vampire for once," she said, accepting the tumbler.

"Yeah, what a terrible thing, dating a vampire," Damon mocked, settling down beside her, one arm draping across her shoulders. "I'm not sure Fell's any better, though. Her ex showed up dead with a wooden stake through his heart. I thought I should investigate. _She_ thought she should inject me with vervain and help herself to a couple of pints of my blood."

"That's all she wanted? Blood? What do you think she's doing with that?" Elena asked, puzzled.

"No clue. I think I surprised her by coming out of the vervain coma early. Makes drinking battery acid every day worth it," he said, gulping down a mouthful of blood. "But none of that's really important. You're doing okay?" He looked at her with concern, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"Yeah. Bonnie and I had a good talk. I think she's coming to terms with us. At least she doesn't think I'm compelled anymore. You still might want to steer clear of her, though."

"Trust me, Elena, I _always_ want to steer clear of Bonnie. After murder attempt number six, I'm starting to think she doesn't like me very much," he said with a sardonic smile.

"Never let it be said that Damon Salvatore is a slow learner," Elena said, resting her head on his shoulder. "But you know, Stefan and I talked, too. He apologized for what happened on the bridge."

Damon became very still. "Oh?

"For a minute, he almost seemed like his old self. How he was before all this started with Klaus. But seeing him like that, remembering how he used to be, you know what I felt?" she asked.

"How did you feel, Elena?" Damon asked quietly.

"I felt sorry for him. But I didn't miss him, Damon. Not for a second." Elena lifted her head, turning to face him. "All I could think of was how much I wanted to come home. To you."

Damon laced his fingers through hers, just looking at her with those otherworldly eyes. "One of these days, I'm going to stop being surprised when you stay things like that and just accept that a girl like you could love a...whatever like me."

"You can believe whatever you want. But I _do _love you. I don't see that changing any time soon." She leaned forward to kiss him, but a gleam of silver caught her eye. She frowned, reaching for the long, slender dagger on the coffee table. "Damon? What did you do?"

Damon just grinned and pulled her close. "Things are about to get _very _interesting. We'd better enjoy this moment while we can."

So they did.


	15. Missed

_Apparently there was a little confusion about what happened at the end of last chapter. Elena and Damon didn't do the deed—fill in the blanks about how they enjoyed their evening instead (personally, I think it involved Wii golf). ;) I promise that when they finally do go the distance, you won't be able to miss it. But it doesn't happen this chapter, so you'll just have to suffer through. Please enjoy. _

"It really isn't fair that I keep missing your bad ass moments," Damon said. "First you punch Bonnie, but I can't properly appreciate it because my brain is dribbling out of my ears. Then you pistol whip one of Klaus' puppets, and I'm in the wrong state. One of these days you're going to have to bust out your ninja moves in front of me."

Damon was holding Elena's feet as she did sit-ups on the floor of Alaric's apartment. "It wasn't a pistol," she huffed. "It was a shotgun."

"That's even cooler! I miss all the fun stuff," Damon pouted. "Ten more."

"What isn't fair is that you never have to work out and are still faster and stronger than I'll ever be," Elena panted between sit-ups. When she'd finished the last rep, she flopped back onto the mat to catch her breath.

"Don't whine, Elena. You know that's easily fixable. Say the word, and you can enjoy all the benefits of a diet high in iron," he said, one hand resting casually on her stomach. "With the inevitable Klaus-Elijah showdown coming up, it would probably be a good thing if you were less vulnerable.

"Yeah, because that worked out so well when Katherine turned into a vampire to stay safe from Klaus. It's not like she spent the next 500 years on the run or anything," Elena shot back. "Besides, didn't we agree not to argue about this?"

"Who's arguing? You were the one complaining about the horrors of humanity. I'm just presenting you with a solution to the problem. You can choose to take it or leave it," Damon said.

Elena sat up, spreading her legs into a "v" shape so she could begin her stretches. "I didn't say it was horrible. Don't you ever miss it?"

"What, being human?" Now that his services were no longer needed, he was rearranging the weight rack in the corner, his back to her.

"Yeah. You know, I try to imagine what you were like back then sometimes. When you were just a regular guy, not Damon Salvatore, notorious vampire of myth and legend." She pressed her head against her knee, hands clasping around her heel.

"I may have a picture somewhere. I tried to burn most of them—I had really awful hair back then. Trust me, finger waves are _not_ a good look for guys," he said, hefting a 50 pound weight as if it were made of paper.

"Oh, because that's so much better than this mullet-y thing you've got going on now?" Elena teased.

"It's not a mullet. It's stylishly shaggy," Damon insisted, tossing a few of the dark locks out of his face.

"Uh huh. But you didn't answer my question." Elena switched legs. "Do you ever miss being human?"

There was more clanking of weights. Elena didn't rush him, letting the thoughtful silence envelop her as she stretched her arms above her head, reaching for the sky.

"Yeah, I miss it. I miss it all the time," Damon said softly.

It was surprising. Elena had never seen anyone embrace the role of creature of the night quite like Damon did. He loved the fog and the darkness and the sheer theatricality of it all. And if she was being honest, he loved the freedom it gave him, the license to kill, the easy excuse of "it's in my nature." And when she tried to imagine what he'd been like when he'd just been a normal man, a son and a soldier and a lover and a brother, she always came up with a blank emptiness. Being a vampire was so much a part of Damon, she couldn't always disentangle it and find out where it all began, what lay at his core.

"So if there was a magic pill I could hand you right now that would make you human again, would you take it?" Elena asked, pulling her knees to her chest, watching him.

There was no hesitation. "Yes," he said. "In a heartbeat."

"Why? I thought you loved this. You get to live forever, you're strong, and the sun isn't a problem since you've got your ring. And then there's that guilt switch. Why go back to being just human?" Elena asked. Oh, she had her own reasons for resisting the lure of immortality. She knew from watching Stefan just how seductive the call of human blood could be, and she knew from watching Damon how heady the power over life and death could be. Some part of her didn't trust that she could turn and still be a good person. Not to mention the general ickiness of a blood-based diet. But why would _Damon_ want to go back?

Damon turned to face her, his eyes thoughtful and a little sad. "The super powers are great, but even they get old after a while. Sure, I live forever, but that means every day matters a little less. It's easy to put things off, to hold onto grudges a little longer, to waste time on things that don't matter. And that switch—that fucking switch—I'm pretty sure it's just a fairy tale we tell ourselves. Because the alternative, the idea that we have to live with these heightened, incredible, painful feelings _forever_?" He shook his head. "That's just too much to take. We'd all go nuts. So we invented a story that let us bear it a little more easily. That's what I think the switch really is."

"And so even knowing all that, you still want me to turn?" It didn't make any sense. If being a vampire was as bad as all that, if Damon really hated it so much, why would he want that for her? He said he loved her—why would he condemn her to that?

"Not really. But I'm more afraid of losing you than I am of turning you. It's an _incredibly _selfish desire on my part. But, I think that together, we could deal with it. I could show you how to survive, how to avoid the worst of what Stefan and I went through." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes or touch the sadness there. "But we still have time for you to decide. And you _will _get to decide, Elena. Your terms. For now, being with you makes me feel almost human again. And that's enough for right now."

Elena had always known from the very beginning that this would always be the elephant in the room between them. Well, one of them. There was a whole herd of elephants. But the ultimate question of how long and in what way they'd be together was one that was never going to go away. And she didn't know how it was all going to play out. Didn't have a clue what her decision would be when her hair started graying and her eyesight grew dim. "Thanks for being honest with me. And you're right, we don't have to decide anything right now." She smiled, trying to lighten the mood as she climbed to her feet. "Besides, I still have weight training to do. Wanna spot me?" she asked slyly.

In a flash, that air of sadness disappeared. Elena could actually watch as Damon banished it, locking it away behind some door and burying it where he thought no one could find it. And that cocky smile spread across his face, all confidence and swagger once again. "Do I ever."


	16. Threatened

"You'd think witches would be better housekeepers," Damon said as he tried to wipe a glob of sticky spiderweb from his fingers. "You know, with the brooms and all."

The candles flared dangerously high for a moment before settling down to their normal, flickering glow. "Please don't taunt the witches," Elena sighed, not looking up from the box she was rooting through. "It was your idea to come here. I don't even really know what we're looking for."

"Neither do I. But there has to be _something._ If there's one thing witches can't stand, it's imbalance. For every shadow, there's a light; for every fire, there's water that can quench it; for every hybrid British bastard, there's a way to kill him. It's just how the universe works," Damon said. He'd finally given up on the web residue and dived back into another pile of old papers and assorted junk. "And since Bonnie and her mommy haven't had any luck, we have to do something. If there's a clue anywhere, it makes sense it'd be in the Witch House."

"If you say so. It just looks like two centuries worth of rat's nests to me," Elena said as she tossed away another wad of old newspaper. "And I thought the witches hated you, anyway."

"Enemy of my enemy is my friend, yadda yadda yadda. Besides, even when they've been dead for a few hundred years, women still can't resist my charms." Damon suddenly clutched at his head, letting out a strangled cry. Just as quickly as the attack had come, it passed and he relaxed. "Point made, ladies."

"You deserved that one," Elena snickered.

"He usually does," a voice drawled from the stairs. Before Elena could turn to face the intruder, Damon had stationed himself in front of her, ready to strike.

"Oh, come now, we're all friends here, aren't we? I hear you two have been getting _very_ friendly indeed. Congratulations, Damon. I thought what she and Stefan had was a forever love, but alas, forever has once again proven to be painfully short," Klaus said as he strolled down the last few steps.

"What do you _want_, Klaus?" Elena spat.

Damon reached back to touch her arm warningly, never taking his eyes off Klaus. "Remember what you said about not taunting the witches? Let's practice that now with Klaus, 'kay?"

Klaus laughed, full and rich. "Ah, I can see it now, how you two fit together. She is a feisty one, isn't she? Rather like Katerina, in that way."

"Did you come to offer relationship advice? Because we're full up," Damon said. Elena bit her tongue. So it was okay when _he _taunted the villain?

"Sadly, no. Though I believe I owe my thanks to you for the return of my dear elder brother to the world of the living. What a lovely surprise that was," Klaus said with a nasty little smile.

"You're welcome. I thought Mystic Falls had been missing that touch of Old World charm lately. Elijah fits that bill," Damon said. "I'd be happy to arrange reunions with your other siblings. I'm sure they'd be even happier to see you after—what, a thousand years in those coffins?"

"How kind of you, but I must decline. I came here to make a deal," Klaus said, circling the couple. Damon turned so he continued to face the hybrid, always keeping Elena hidden behind him. She knew it was a pointless gesture, that Klaus was faster and stronger than either of them could even imagine, but it was a kindness, all the same.

"Are we going to do that thing where I tell you I'm never giving it to you and you threaten to rip my head off and then we both realize we're at an impasse and slink away? Because that's _really _getting old," Damon said. His tone was light and casual, but underneath it all there was a core of steel.

"While I understand your position, you may want to reconsider." His eyes drifted to Elena, smiling that smarmy, superior little smirk. Elena had a fleeting fantasy of delivering a solid punch to that scruffy chin, but let it go immediately; she couldn't even form a fist before he'd be on her.

"Leave her out of this. We both know that Elena's the last person in the world you'd hurt. You _need_ her," Damon said fiercely, as if trying to convince himself of the truth of his words.

"Indeed I do. You're very precious to me, Elena. Perhaps too precious to allow you to remain free range. It's a dangerous world out there, you know. Cars driving off bridges and such. It can all be over like _that_." He snapped his fingers for effect, moving closer. Damon still blocked his progress with his own body, but Klaus stared past him as if he didn't exist, eyes locked on Elena's. "Perhaps it'd be better if I kept you with me, drugged in bed, collecting blood from you drop by drop. Enough to last me an eternity." Klaus' gaze settled on Damon, a half smile quirking his lips. "Doesn't that sound perfect? She'd be safe as houses. Forever."

Elena's insides turned to ice. While she feared death, she accepted it. Hell, she _had _died, more or less, which removed a great deal of the mystery. She knew that one day, probably sooner rather than later, she'd die for real, without John there to take on the consequences. But what Klaus described was a hell beyond her wildest nightmares. To lay there in a twilight of life, helpless and senseless as her blood was used to create an army of monsters...

"You wouldn't," Damon said, but there was fear there. They all knew that this time, Klaus wasn't bluffing. This time, he wouldn't blink.

"Try me," Klaus said softly. He took a step back, all smiles and mock joviality once more. "But you two think about it. Take some time and consider what one coffin—which you can't even open—is worth to you. And then you come back to me with an answer, hmm?" He turned, climbing the stairs. Halfway up, he paused, beaming down at them. "I'd let you visit her though, mate. Who am I to stand in the way of true love?" With a little wave, he disappeared.

The pair stood frozen as his footsteps sounded above them. The slam of the front door seemed to wake them both from a trance. Damon turned to face her, his eyes wide. Too much white was showing, like a spooked horse. "I have to go get the coffin. I have to give it to him."

"There has to be another way, Damon. We'll find another way," Elena said. But she wasn't so sure they could pull out a miracle this time.

"_What _other way, Elena? You heard what he said; he'd do it. And there'd be fuck all I could do to stop it!" Damon slapped a box of off its shelf, sending papers wafting into the air like snow. "No. I can't see that happen to you, Elena. I can't sit by and watch you become a vegetable because of Stefan's _idiotic _need for revenge. I'll go get it now, I'll give it to him. And then you and I are going far, far away." He turned to the stairs, fully prepared to give it all up, to do everything Klaus demanded. But as scared as she was, Elena couldn't let him do it.

She seized his hand and he turned to her, eyes still wide with fear and rage, nostrils flaring. "Stop. We can't run into this without thinking. We've faced the impossible before, and we've always found an alternative. Klaus gave us time. Let's use that. We can still use your plan as a fallback, but he's expecting that we'll act out of fear. We can't do that."

Damon reached for her, a tiny tremor in his hands as they settled on her shoulders. "I promise you, I will _never_ let him do that to you. I will kill you with my own hands first. You will not live like that, Elena." His voice trembled.

"I know," she said, reaching up to cradle his face in her hands, to get him to focus on her. "But we're a long, long way from that. Don't let him scare you, Damon. We'll fight this. And we'll win. One way or another, he can't touch us."

He searched her face desperately, looking for some hope or some answer in her eyes. "I want to believe you."

"Do you trust me?" Elena asked.

"Yes. But-"

"No buts. If you trust me, then believe in me enough to at least look at our possibilities. We'll survive, Damon. We always find a way to survive."

He gave her a long, measuring look. "Fine. You get tonight. If we can't figure out a solution by the time the sun rises, we go with my plan."

"Deal." She took him by the hand and led him from the haunted house.


	17. Fought

"I enrolled in this class at the art center, and it's _incredible,_ Elena. It's a charcoal drawing class, so it's all about shading and light and dark and smudging and it's just so cool. The teacher really likes what I've done so far and is already talking about how I should be in the advanced class soon," Jeremy said in a happy tumble of words. Elena smiled against the phone, surreptitiously wiping her eyes with the tips of her fingers. He just sounded so _normal_, so unburdened. For the first time in years, Jeremy was getting to be a kid. "But all I've done is talk about me—are you doing okay? How's Mystic Falls?" he asked.

"It's...Mystic Falls. You know how that goes," she said, doing her best to keep the worry and tension out of her voice. The last thing she wanted to do was remind him of what he'd left behind. "But no, everything's great. I even got a B+ on my biology makeup test. Things are looking up. Listen, I don't want to keep you. I just wanted to hear your voice." Elena said.

"Yeah, I probably should go, I kinda promised I'd meet this girl..." Jeremy said.

"Then you shouldn't keep her waiting. Have fun. I love you, Jer," she said. Her heart gave a painful sideways beat. Nothing made her happier than hearing about his fresh start, his second shot at life, but she wanted so badly to see the man he was becoming.

"Love you too, 'Lena. Say 'hey' to everyone for me."

Elena ended the call, staring down at the phone in her hand. At least she knew that no matter what happened to her, Jeremy was happy. Jeremy would be safe. Had he still been in town, Elena wasn't at all sure she could be so brave about all this. With him out of the equation, it was easier to think clearly about the situation, to find the right way out of this mess instead of worrying about holding onto her one last, precious piece of family.

But right now, she couldn't think about him; couldn't think about what would happen if _he_ lost his last blood relative. Even calling him was an indulgence, but Elena had to remember what she was fighting for: a chance to live and be with people she loved.

Elena peered into the living room, where Damon paced in front of the fireplace. Even from this distance, she could see that every muscle in his body was locked and tense, hands clenched into fists at his side. When Damon was too wound up to even _drink, _things must be dire. Elena dug into her backpack, withdrawing a pen and a notebook, then went to join him in the living room. She sat down and opened the notebook, drawing a neat grid on the lined page.

"What are you doing? How can you just sit there? We should be halfway to Tahiti by now," Damon said, his voice as hard and as bitter as glass.

"I'm almost used to this, sad as that is. It's not the first time I've been threatened like this." She paused, thoughtful. "It's not even the first time I've been threatened by _Klaus_ like this."

"All the more reason why we should get out of town," Damon insisted.

"You're acting like I don't know what's at stake. I've _lived _what's at stake. Or don't you remember pulling those tubes out of my arm at the hospital?" Elena asked, suppressing her own shudder at the memory. Too exhausted to move, too weak to pluck the needles from her arm that siphoned her blood away, but just conscious enough to realize what horrors she was unwittingly unleashing on the world. "I know you're scared, but this isn't _about_ you. This time, we're not giving up. Now stop pacing, you're making me nervous."

That seemed to get his attention. He blinked at her, but he relaxed fractionally, and gave a determined nod. "All right. We'll play it your way. For now." He picked up her notebook, frowning down at the grid. "What's this?"

Elena tugged the page from his hands. "_This _is going to help us figure out what we're going to do. We're going to write down all of our options, the pros and cons, and figure out what our best move is."

Damon nodded with grudging admiration. "A little more organized than our normal tact. We'll go with it. Option One: Give Klaus what he wants, start a new life in the south of France."

"I thought you said Tahiti," Elena said. She wrote "give Klaus the coffin" in neat block letters.

"Lady's choice. Just so long as it's in a different hemisphere," Damon said, finally coming to sit beside her.

"Okay, so. We give Klaus the coffins. Pros to that plan," Elena said, steering the conversation back on track.

"Klaus leaves us alone. We never have to see him again. We get to start over in a place with 100 percent fewer hybrids," Damon said.

Elena wrote briskly. "Right. Cons: He's never actually going to leave me alone. Not while he needs my blood to make hybrids. _And_ we don't know what's in the coffin. There could be something awful in there," Elena said.

Damon held up a finger, starting to protest, then seemed to change his mind. "Okay, I'll give you the first point. Maybe we can just FedEx him some blood when he needs a new army. I don't really care, so long as we aren't anywhere near him. But for the second point, what could _possibly _be worse than Klaus and his army of hybrids?"

"If there's one thing vampires have taught me these last couple years, it's that there's _always _something worse. No offense," Elena said.

"None taken," Damon replied, one corner of his mouth quirking into a half smile.

"Con: Leaving behind Ric and Caroline and Bonnie and Matt and everyone," Elena said, continuing to write.

"Pro: Leaving behind Stefan, Klaus, and the whole assorted cast of hybrids and Originals," Damon said.

"I'm not writing that," Elena said.

"What, because you can't wait to spend more time with Rebekah?" Damon shot back.

"Well, no. But you didn't mean that part about Stefan," Elena said. "He's still your brother."

"Oh, I mean it, Elena. Right now I would like very much to chain my brother in the tomb for a couple of decades until he gets this bullshit out of his system," Damon said.

Elena shook her head. "Fine. I'm not going to argue with you. He's not exactly my favorite person right now, either, but you know you'd miss him."

"Maybe in a century or two," Damon said grudgingly. "Distance makes the heart grow fonder, et cetera."

Elena began to argue, but stopped herself. There was no point. If Damon wanted to keep pretending that Stefan meant so little to him, let him. This wasn't Stefan's fight anymore, after all: he'd involved them, and now they would have to deal with the consequences of his actions.

"All right. I think that's enough for that plan. Option two: We don't give Klaus the coffin. Pro: He doesn't get what he wants, the coffin stays hidden, the good guys win," Elena continued.

"Who cares, Elena? This isn't some big moral battle, this isn't about good versus evil—this is about Stefan wanting payback. Do I even need to _mention _the giant, massive downside to that plan?" Damon asked.

"Con: Klaus tries to capture me and keep me as a blood cow," Elena said unflinchingly. "Yeah, we have to say it. We have to know what we're facing."

"_That_," Damon said, his voice dangerously soft, "is not an option."

"It's not my favorite plan either, Damon, but we're putting all of the possibilities down," Elena said, writing each pro and con in its assigned column.

"Fine. If we're listing all the possibilities, then here's one: We _don't _give Klaus the coffin, and turn you so his blood cow plan—as you so charmingly put it—doesn't work," Damon said.

Elena paused, her pen hovering over the paper. She pursed her lips tightly, but true to her word, she wrote "vampire plan" on the page. "Okay, Damon. Con: I refuse to turn because of some _plan,_ so you'll have to force feed me blood and then kill me. Are you ready to deal with the fallout from that? It didn't end well last time."

"Just keep throwing that back in my face, Elena. You said we'd consider all the options, and that's an option. I say it's a good compromise: You win because Klaus doesn't get his coffins; I win because you're not a vegetable. Oh wait, you win there, too. Everyone wins!" Damon cried.

"I'm not 'throwing it in your face,' I'm telling you what would happen. The fact that I would never forgive you would be a con for both of us," Elena said, struggling to keep her temper in check. She knew he was trying to help. She wasn't even terribly surprised he'd broached the idea. But he couldn't genuinely consider the idea. It wouldn't solve anything. "Also a con: Klaus would be so pissed when he found out I'd turned, he'd rip my heart out."

Damon sighed. "Yeah, you're probably right. Write it down."

Elena obliged, crossing the final _t_. "Any other options?"

"No, I think that pretty much covers shitty options A through C," Damon said.

"Don't you think we should get Stefan or Bonnie involved? At least Alaric," Elena suggested.

"No. Absolutely not. The last time our plan got fucked to smithereens, it was because we involved too many people. Too many moving parts. We either find a solution, or we give him the coffin. Period," Damon said. "And looking at these options, it's looking like we give him the coffin."

Elena stared down at the piece of paper, as if the options would suddenly line up and give them a clear answer. It was starting to look like Damon was right, that the only option would be to give Klaus what he wanted. "If only we could open it and find out what's in there. What could be so important to him now that we know he's got the rest of his family with him?"

Damon shrugged. "Don't know. But-" he broke off, eyes lighting with sudden inspiration. "If we can't open it, why do we think _he_ can?"

"Why would he carry around a coffin he can't open? He must have some plan," Elena said.

"Maybe not. The dead witches seemed _very _concerned about keeping that coffin shut. If they wouldn't let us open it, why would they let him?" Damon sat up, a sudden smile crossing his face. "I think we might need to call in Bonnie, after all."


	18. Risked

_I feel like I haven't told you guys how much I appreciate you lately. I do. Your reviews make even my crappiest days brighter. So thank you. Though we won't get a new episode on Thursday (boo!), I'm still going to give my fingers a rest tomorrow. I'll be back on Friday with a new chapter. But how exactly do you outsmart an immortal hybrid? Let's find out. Please enjoy._

"It looks like something out of Snow White," Elena said. "You know, a coffin in the middle of the woods? Maybe that's the secret—Snow White's inside, waiting for a kiss." Her giggle was half-hysterical, but she no sooner could have stopped it than she could have stopped the tide. This was insane. Everything about it was insane. The coffin sat on a plush pile of leaves in the forest clearing just outside the tomb, the sunlight gleaming off the polished wood. They'd decided this was neutral ground for the release of their prisoner.

"That was made of glass," Damon reminded her, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulders. "Keep it together, Elena. We're almost done."

Elena did her best to remember what the calm lady on her yoga video always said: be conscious of your breath. Feel yourself grounded to the earth beneath you. Embrace the serenity you wish to feel. That was easy to do when you weren't dealing with pissed-off immortals. But Elena knew they'd done everything they could do to make this work. It wasn't a great plan, but it was better than any of the alternatives. She pulled in a few deep gulps of air, but her breath hitched when Elijah and Klaus melted out of the forest, as silent and dangerous as wolves.

"I'm so glad you've decided to see reason," Klaus said warmly. "I do like it so much better when we can all cooperate and be friends."

"Yeah. Kinda surprised to see who you're friends with these days. You're awfully forgiving, Elijah," Damon said, his hand tightening on Elena's arm.

"My desire to be with my family is stronger than my desire for revenge. I believe you can understand that," Elijah said. "Though I also believe I owe you my thanks."

"Yep. I'd hoped you'd rip your brother's head off or chain him up and throw him into the river or something, but I _guess_ you're still welcome," Damon said.

"Well, if we have the pleasantries out of the way, we'll be off, then," Klaus said, stepping towards the coffin.

"Not so fast. We need to discuss terms," Elena said. They had to have a firm, explicit agreement. Maybe with Elijah there, Klaus would actually stick to the deal. He was the _moral _brother, after all.

"Oh, very well. State your terms," Klaus said, clearly bored by the whole affair.

"We'll give you this coffin," Elena said. "In return, you will not kill, maim, turn or otherwise harm us or our loved ones. I think Elijah should have a list—that still applies."

"I remember your list. We agree to the terms," Elijah said.

"I want to hear _him_ say it," Damon said, gesturing to Klaus.

"Of course. No maiming, turning, killing, or enforced captivity. In return, you'll agree not to try to get the coffins back. This includes Stefan and the little witch, too. Any breach of that, and our bargain is null and void," Klaus said.

"Agreed," Elena said.

"Always a pleasure doing business with you," Klaus said as he seized one end of the coffin. Elijah took the other, and they disappeared back into the forest.

Elena was weak-kneed with relief. She started to speak, but Damon shook his head, tugging on his earlobe. Damn vampire hearing. They walked silently back to the car, hand in hand. Only when they were on the road home did Elena finally speak. "Do you think they bought it?"

* * *

><p>The hardest part had been finding an exact match for the coffin. It couldn't just be close—it had to be <em>exactly<em> the same. Damon had driven to a funeral home just over the North Carolina state line to pick it up while Elena made sure Bonnie could make it convincing. If Bonnie couldn't pull off the spell, there was no plan, just an empty coffin.

"You're going to give Klaus a decoy?" Bonnie asked, staring at her friend as if she was insane. Again.

"Damon came up with this plan, didn't he?" Stefan asked. He was skulking in the back of the room, arms crossed.

"If you think you can do it. We need it to be sealed just as tightly as the real thing, and the same weight. We can make it look the same, we need _you _to make it feel the same," Elena said, ignoring Stefan.

"If Klaus figures it out, he'll kill you," Bonnie said. "Are you absolutely _sure_ he can't open that coffin?"

"I'm not sure," Elena admitted. "But I _am _absolutely sure that whoever's in that coffin, we don't want Klaus having them. Damon is going to hide the real coffin—no one else will know where it is. Not even me. If Klaus kills him, its hiding place dies with him. We can't give up now, not when you're so close to opening the coffin. Something tells me whoever's in there could be the key to killing him once and for all," Elena said, hoping her voice sounded more confident than she felt.

"No. Absolutely not. I'll go along with this stupid plan right up until that point. But there's no way we're trusting Damon with something so big. This was all _my _idea to start with, I get to make the call," Stefan said.

Elena fixed Stefan with an icy stare. "Listen carefully," she said. "You don't get a vote. You are here so you're aware of the plan because we knew you'd do something to blow it if you thought Klaus was getting the real coffin. We're in this mess because of _you_, but it's my life that's on the line. You either go along with this plan, or we give him the real coffin and you lose any hope of revenge. Those are your options. Pick one."

Stefan shrugged. "As long as the real coffin's safe, fine. There are only so many places in Mystic Falls to hide a coffin, and Damon's not that smart. I'll figure it out eventually—and so will Klaus. But I'm going on the record as saying this is a bad idea."

Bonnie's eyes darted between the pair like she was watching a tennis match. "You two done?

"Yep," Elena said. Damon had wanted to keep Stefan in the dark about the entire affair, but Elena knew that would end in failure. Stefan was willing to risk too much for his revenge; if he'd had to stage some big rescue attempt of the "coffin," the whole game could've been lost.

"I don't like trusting Damon with this either," Bonnie sighed.

"I know you don't. I'm not asking you to trust him; I'm asking you to trust me," Elena said.

Bonnie caught her bottom lip between her teeth, mulling over the plan. "I think Mom and I are really close to getting the coffin open," she said. "I _know _there's a way, we're just not there yet. I need more time."

"And this will buy us that time, Bonnie. This isn't the ultimate solution, this is a Band Aid. We know that. But the question is: can you do it?"

"Yes. If you can get me an exact match for the coffin, I can make Klaus believe it's his," Bonnie said. "There _has _to be something big in there, or I wouldn't be having those crazy, vivid dreams. Mom has to be the key somehow."

"How _are_ things with your mom?" Elena said. She knew time was critical, that every wasted moment made their plan less likely to succeed, but reuniting with a mother who'd abandoned you? Elena knew a little something about how hard that was.

"Weird. Awkward. But I think we're getting somewhere with the coffin, at least. Just a few more days and I think we could get it open." Bonnie hesitated a moment, then nodded. "I'll do it."

Elena caught her friend in a tight hug. "Thank you. I know things have been weird and awkward between us, too, but thank you. I know I can always count on you."

"I hate that things are weird and awkward," Bonnie said, returning the hug. "Don't let Klaus kill you, or we'll never be able to make things right."

"This is so touching," Stefan snarked.

"Shut up, Stefan," the girls said in unison.

* * *

><p>Bonnie spelled the coffin. It was a thing of beauty: an exact match for the real McCoy in every way. Elena didn't understand the more subtle details of the spell, but she'd essentially created a fake body within the coffin. It would shift and move when carried, just like the real locked coffin did. And it wouldn't open with brute force or magic—she'd made doubly sure of that. Bonnie said it even felt the same, magically speaking. Elijah and Klaus never seemed to suspect as they carried the box away.<p>

"That went well. That went waytoo well. My plans never go that well," Damon said as they drove back to the boarding house after the exchange. "Fuck. Will you _please _let me drive you to the airport? Hop a plane to Denver, go see Jeremy. Go to DisneyWorld, I don't care. Just let me get you out of town for a few days until we know if he bought it or not."

"Not going to happen," Elena said. "If we go down, we go down together. Not to mention leaving would be incredibly suspicious. We have to act natural."

"When did you start being so sneaky? You used to be so naive and trusting," Damon said.

"I think it was sometime _after_ I was sacrificed on an altar but _before_ we found out that my blood makes hybrids," Elena replied.

"Fair enough." Damon parked the car, but neither of them moved to exit the vehicle. He reached for her hand. "You know we're probably both going to die," he said without emotion. It was a simple fact.

"I know," Elena said softly. "But if we're together, I'm not afraid." Before she could blink, Damon had scooped her out of the car and was carrying her towards the house. She nuzzled against him, arms clasped around his neck. Yes. There were things much worse than dying. If she walked into that darkness knowing they'd fought as hard as they could, knowing this kind of love? That wouldn't be a defeat.

"Then we'd better make tonight count," he said.


	19. Dared

It was the last night of the world. But Elena had no fear about what would happen tomorrow, what retribution would rain down upon them when Klaus inevitably realized they'd double-crossed him, when Elijah realized he wouldn't be reunited with his beloved family. No, what terrified her was tonight.

Damon set her on her feet once they were inside the boarding house and they came together in a tremendous kiss that sent waves of heat and bolts of lightning careening through every nerve in her body. But she was holding back, and he knew it. There was still a reluctance, still a line she couldn't bring herself to cross, no matter how badly she wanted to. He drew back, anger flashing through his eyes, warring with intense need and a fear just as strong as anything she felt. "Why?" he demanded. "I love you. You _say_ you love me. What's the problem?"

Elena wanted to shrink from him, but there was nowhere to run. He had her pressed against the wall, the paneling digging into her back as he loomed over her, ominous and dark. "Of course I love you. But it's not that simple," she started. His palm slammed into the wall beside her head. She flinched. "And that's not helping."

"I'm a little _frustrated_ here, Elena. When I look ahead, you're all I can see, but you're still looking back and jumping at shadows. Explain to me why it isn't that simple. It was easy enough when it was _Stefan_," he said, unable to resist the barb.

"You aren't Stefan! Everything is different with you, so let's not make this about him." Elena would give anything to not have this conversation. But it had to happen. It wasn't that she didn't _want _to do this. Every cell in her body was crying out for him, from lips that burned to bury him in kisses to fingers that longed to stroke that cool, pale skin to the low, ceaseless ache that just wanted _him. _Her body was demanding, her heart was certain, but her head wouldn't shut the hell up and enjoy the ride.

"You think I'll hurt you," he said flatly. "That's what this is. You think I can't control myself, that I'll bite you."

"No. Yes. Maybe a little?" she said.

"You never did it? With...?" Damon broke off, unable to mention his brother's name again. God, this was the worst sex talk _ever. _Not only did they have to discuss the fact that he might just kill her in the heat of the moment, they had to discuss her sexual history with his brother. What would Dr. Drew say?

"No. He wanted to; I could tell. But he never did. When I gave him blood, I pricked my finger with a pin and he fed from there. It was like getting blood taken at the doctor's," she said.

"Typical." He shook his head. "To feed during sex is incredible; to be _fed on_ during sex is even more amazing. It's total surrender, total trust. And the way it feels...well, it gives new meaning to '_la petite mort_.'" Elena had a brief, intense flash of her mirror image, naked and riding Damon, head thrown back in blissful release, fangs dripping crimson droplets onto his bare chest. But Damon's next words snapped her back to the present. "But that's your choice. I'm not an animal, Elena. I can control myself," he said, words tinged with hurt.

"I never thought you were," Elena reassured him. "Not for an instant. I think part of me is more frightened that I want you to." There was no one in the world she trusted more than this man. He'd loved her when she was distinctly unlovable. He'd saved her, even when she hadn't wanted to be saved, even when she was certain she was incapable of being saved. Oh yes, she trusted him enough to let him feed from her. But she'd felt the sharp prick of fangs before, felt greedy lips guzzle her lifeblood away as flames flickered and her aunt lay crumpled in a broken pile, felt the last drops of blood disappear and blackness drag her down into its drowning depths.

As much as she loved Damon, she wasn't sure she was ready to go through that again.

"I won't lay a single fang on you, Elena. Not unless you ask me to. Not unless you _beg_ me to." He gave a crooked little grin. Something within him relaxed when he realized she wasn't afraid that he was a monster, she wasn't horrified by the fangs and the blood. "We could even set up a code, like an anti-safe word." The grin faded. "But that's not what this is really about at all," he finished.

"No, it's not. And it's not that I don't love you; I swear that's not it. But..." an embarrassed flush rose to her cheeks. She knew he could hear the increase in her heartbeat, and he gave her no quarter, didn't yield an inch.

"But what?" he asked.

"I don't want to disappoint you," she said, dropping her eyes. There it was, in all its mundane glory. She was just afraid that she wouldn't be good enough for him, that for a man who had traveled the world, been with the most beautiful women of every age, she would just be a fumbling high school girl trying to figure out what went where.

His laughter was soft and not unkind, but he was clearly finding a great deal of humor in her revelation. She glared up at him, furious. "Don't you dare laugh at me, Damon Salvatore!"

"How could I not? God, Elena. You're such a smart, beautiful, wonderful _moron,_" he said, his arms encircling her waist, all the tension leaking out of him. "That's what this was about all this time? You were scared I'd be disappointed because you don't have the entire _Kama Sutra_ committed to memory?"

More blood rushed to her cheeks. Elena knew she must be beet red by now. "Well, yeah." He made it sound so silly, so inconsequential. But it wasn't. If the sex wasn't any good...well, Damon wasn't going to stay. No matter how much they loved each other, if the physical relationship didn't work, Elena wasn't naive enough to think he wouldn't go looking elsewhere to fill his needs.

"I like sex; I'm not going to pretend I don't. And it's true, I've been with a lot of women," he said. He smiled for a moment, remembering a stream of faces and bodies. "A _lot_ of women." Elena smacked him in the stomach. "Oof. But Elena, not a single one of those women made me feel the things I feel when you just_ look_ at me, never mind what happens when we touch, or when we kiss." Those blue eyes burned, tender but crackling with desire. "I'll show you what to do. But I think you already know." He pressed his body against hers, solid and strong, hard and unyielding in every way against her softness. "Don't you?" he whispered, lips brushing against the shell of her ear.

There was no need for words after that. Every touch and movement and sigh spoke volumes. Somehow they found their way up to bed, limbs tangling in sheets, bodies lost in one another.

And in the end, Elena knew exactly what to do.


	20. Joined

_Dang, guys. 20 chapters. We've come a long way from a stolen kiss on the front porch, huh? Special thanks to Miss Petrovska for correcting my French in the last chapter (who knew orgasms were feminine? Insert your own jokes), but thank you to all of you who've joined me for this ride. We're only just getting started._

Elena's panties dangled from one of the posters of Damon's massive bed. Her bra was on the nightstand, and his briefs had somehow become wrapped around her ankle. One of her legs was draped over his hip, his arm curled around her belly, their heads sharing the same pillow as they lay in a drowsy, boneless daze.

It was safe to say that there hadn't been any disappointment.

"God, Damon. That was-"

"Yep."

"It was never like that with-"

"Nope."

"Could you _be _any more smug right now?" Elena asked, smiling in spite of herself.

"Doubtful," he said as he pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to the hollow of her throat. "Though I wouldn't call it 'smug.' Can we call it 'justifiable pride' instead?"

"Right now, you can call it anything you want and I'll just smile and nod," Elena said.

"Well, you're no slouch yourself, Gilbert," Damon said. "I knew the lady protested too much."

She grinned. Once she'd decided to stop being afraid, to give into what she knew she wanted and needed, everything just fell into place. No more thinking, no more second guessing. It all became a matter of doing what felt good, doing what made Damon gasp and clutch her closer, moving together in perfect accord. Again. And again. And again.

Yes, it was utterly unlike anything she'd ever done before with either Matt or Stefan. Not just because of the physical sensation, though that certainly would have been more than enough. Damon was confident and forceful, walking a delicate line where every pleasure teetered on the edge of pain. But he knew exactly how far to push her, when to relent and when to redouble his efforts. It was nothing like Stefan's gentle touches and constant questions about her well-being, and a world away from Matt's slobbery kisses and rushed, erratic movements.

But even more than that, when they were together, she knew for the first time what it meant to be loved truly and completely. This wasn't an immature schoolyard fling, or a puppy love that only scratched the surface. This was a love that recognized the flaws in both of them—Damon's brutality and insecurity, Elena's martyrdom and stubbornness—and embraced them. They didn't love each other in spite of their failings, they loved each other _because _of them. And to express that in deed as well as in word? That made all the difference.

Damon gave her a lingering kiss and disentangled himself from her, sliding out of bed. "Where do you think you're going?" Elena asked, reaching for him. Who knew how long they'd be able to enjoy this moment?

"Relax, I thought I'd run us a bath," he said with a significant lift of his eyebrows. "Oh, I almost forgot. Here." He reached into the nightstand and tossed her a stiff piece of metal, a faded picture printed on one side. "Found this old tintype for you. Stefan had it squirreled away, the pack rat." He strolled off towards the bathroom, and Elena allowed herself to enjoy the view before turning her attention to the picture in her hand.

The tin was battered and scratched, but it was unmistakably Damon staring out at her. He was dressed in his gray Confederate uniform, wavy curls spilling out from under his slouched cap. He looked far too young to be a soldier, his eyes full of dreamy thoughtfulness. There was no smirk, no mocking laughter in his eyes, no confident swagger. He looked more like a moonstruck poet than a man ready to march off to kill blue coats. Was it the war that changed him? Or was it Katherine? Or losing her? Or turning? Or everything that came after? Most likely, it was all of it mixed together into a complicated mix that gave birth to the Damon Salvatore she knew and loved. The picture raised more questions than it answered.

Elena tucked the tintype back into the nightstand and rolled out of bed, shaking Damon's underwear off her foot. She nearly drug the sheet along with her until she realized just how silly that was. It wasn't that there was anything to hide—or anything he hadn't seen—but old habits died hard. And Damon was so comfortable with his own body, so utterly at home in his own skin, that it made her feel even more gawky and awkward. But he thought she was beautiful. She just had to remember that.

She made her way to the bathroom, where perfumed steam hung heavily in the air. "I have to agree with you—the hair was pretty bad," Elena said.

"Trust me, honey, you'll look back at your hair in a hundred and fifty years with just as much horror," Damon said, lighting candles. The man knew how to set a scene, that was for sure. "Hell, you'll probably look back at your hair in _five _years with horror."

"True. Can't say it gave me any great insight into who you were before. But I don't know that it matters," Elena said. After all, how could you compare the girl who'd blown off family game night for a party to the sadder, wiser woman who laid roses on four graves?

"This is _way _too introspective for pillow talk," Damon said, turning the water off and helping her into the huge tub. The water was almost too hot, enough to forcibly relax every muscle in her body, easing aches and pains she hadn't even realized she had. Damon climbed into the other side, burying himself up to his chin in the luxurious bubbles.

Elena giggled. "You're the only man I've ever seen who takes bubble baths," she said.

"Real men embrace their love of bubbles," he said solemnly, dropping a soapy pile of foam atop her head.

"Watch it!" she said, tossing a glob of fluff back towards him.

"Don't get water all over my nice, clean bathroom, Elena," he warned.

"What're you gonna do about it, neat freak?" she asked, lobbing another pile of bubbles towards him.

He leaned forward, grabbing her wrists and pinning them against the sides of the tub to stop her watery assault. He was leaning forward to kiss her when his eyes locked on something over her shoulder.

"Aren't you two just adorable?" a voice mocked from the door. No. Not now. Not her. Slowly, Elena turned to see Katherine smiling too broadly at them from the doorway. "Got room for one more?"


	21. Scarred

Elena seriously considered ducking under the water and hiding until Katherine went away. How long could she hold her breath? Two minutes? Three? It was tempting, but she wouldn't give that bitch the satisfaction of seeing her squirm.

"Not a good time, Katherine. Shouldn't you be off hiding from big, bad Klaus?" Damon said, leaning back against the tub with an air of impatience.

"But I missed you, Damon," Katherine pouted, oozing her way towards them. "And your baby brother told me you're making quite a mess of things. Giving Klaus a fake coffin? I haven't decided if that's brilliant or the single dumbest idea I've ever heard," she said.

"That's where I like to live my life, Katherine: between genius and insanity," Damon said. "Did you come to help us open the real coffin, or did you just come to taunt?"

"Oh, opening the coffin? Is _that _what you two were doing right now? I thought you were looking for your rubber ducky," Katherine said. "Did you find it, Elena?"

Elena gripped the edges of the tub so hard she was sure the porcelain would shatter in her grasp. She was a fool to think things could be so simple. How many times did she have to say it: love alone would never be enough for them. Not with Katherine and her laughing eyes and confident sexuality, not with Damon's century and a half obsession with her. What a child she was, to think that just because they loved each other, because they'd slept together, that any of that could compare to the lure of Damon's dark lover, teacher, mother.

"That's enough, Katherine," Damon said, his tone light, but there was a warning there. He snagged a towel and pushed himself out of the bath, managing to hide most of his nakedness from Katherine's lascivious gaze. "We'll let Elena get dressed and you and I can catch up on what you've been doing since you ran away from Mystic Falls like a coward," he said pleasantly as he secured the towel around his waist.

"Sticks and stones, Damon. And what's with the false modesty? Like either of you can show me anything I haven't seen before. Especially her. Hey, Elena, do you have a mole behind your knee, too? Don't you wonder just how exact this doppelganger thing is?" Katherine said.

"I said that's _enough_," Damon growled, seizing her by the arm and marching her out of the room. The door shut behind them, and Elena sat alone in a sea of bubbles.

She raised her leg, running her fingers over the small brown mole on the back of her left knee. Identical. Same body. Same face. Same voice. Entirely different past. How could she ever compete with the woman Damon had loved so faithfully for so long?

"Was this the picture you were showing her? I remember this. You gave me this at the end of your leave, before you went back to the front lines," Katherine said. Her voice was soft through the bathroom door, but Elena could hear every word. Arrogant vampires. She was a human; she wasn't deaf.

"Yeah. I did. Sat for it just for you. And you left it when you ran," Damon said.

"I was in a hurry. Besides, I didn't think I'd need a picture; I thought I'd have _you,_" Katherine said, sweet as sugar. Elena's stomach heaved as she imagined Katherine blinking up at Damon, all false innocence and ancient promises. She couldn't stand to listen anymore. She yanked the stopper from the tub, letting the draining gurgle of water block the voices in the bedroom as she toweled bubbles from her body. Some part of her knew she was overreacting, that Damon had shown time and time again that he was done with Katherine, that he was wise to her tricks and wanted to move on. But could you ever really move on from the person who'd turned you? Was it really a coincidence that both he _and _Stefan had wound up with Katherine's exact double? Hardly. Even if their personalities were polar opposites, it was impossible to deny that looks had played a role in their attraction.

And Katherine herself, the manipulative, evil little _cunt. _Elena was surprised that she would even think such a foul, hateful word, but when it came to Katherine, the shoe fit. She'd sworn her everlasting love for Stefan, but that had been when he was unattainable and Damon was available. Would she always go for the attached brother, just to stir up trouble? Or would she go back to her old tricks, impersonating Elena to get what she wanted and to sow dissension?

No. That was one thing Elena couldn't allow to happen again. Not when all it took was a flat iron and some lip gloss for Katherine to mimic her so completely. Would she kiss Stefan, convincing him of Elena's undying love for him? Or what poisonous lies could she whisper to Damon while wearing her face? It wasn't going to happen this time. Elena wrapped the towel firmly around herself and locked the door. It took her only a few moments to locate what she was looking for in Damon's drawers. Bless his old-fashioned ways. Only Damon would still use a straight razor.

There was one advantage humans had over vampires: humans could scar.

She decided on the shoulder: the mark could be hidden, but would also be easily accessible. Elena set the razor against her left shoulder blade, watching in the mirror as the edge effortlessly parted her skin. She cut as deeply as she dared, blood dripping down her back, pain blossoming sharply but sweetly.

Damon was banging on the door before she'd even finished the first cut, scenting the blood like a shark. "Elena, what are you doing? Open the door, Elena!" His voice held an edge of panic, and she knew it wouldn't be long before he broke the door down to reach her.

As quickly as she could, she repositioned the razor, neatly making another cut to form an X on her shoulder. Pressing a towel to the gushing wound, she opened the door. Damon nearly fell into the room. He spun her around, tearing the towel from her shoulder. "What the hell is this, Elena? When did you become a cutter? I thought we left that pathetic emo shit to your brother," he said, already bringing his wrist to his mouth.

"I'm _starving,_" Katherine purred, fixated on the smudges of blood on Elena's back.

"Shut up, Katherine," Elena said. "Damon, stop that. I'm not drinking any of your blood—and I'm _not _ a cutter. I just decided Katherine and I needed to be a little less identical."

Both vampires stared at her. Then Katherine began to laugh. "Score one for Elena Gilbert. You've grown a spine, kid."

Even Damon couldn't help but show grudging admiration, as much as he tried to hide it. "There must have been a better way of doing that, but it might just keep the bitch honest." He located the first aid kit and set about cleaning the brand, placing a clean square of gauze atop it. Elena winced, but didn't dare show any other discomfort. She wouldn't show weakness in front of Katherine.

"I'm not really feeling the love here," Katherine said. As always, it was all about her. "I came back here to help you assholes get rid of Klaus. Trust me, I'd much rather be on a beach in the Caribbean right now. So if you don't want my help, great. So much the better for me. But Emily _did _give me this book, and you know Bennett witches are awfully clever with opening things that are meant to stay closed..." She held up a slim, battered volume.

Katherine grinned as two pairs of eyes stared at her in shock. "Now who's the bitch?"


	22. Differed

It couldn't possibly be that easy, could it? Katherine just happened to breeze into town with the book they needed to unravel the mystery? Bonnie and her mom would juju the coffin open, they'd somehow manage to awaken its inhabitant (The Original Witch? The Original Petrova Doppelganger? Santa Claus?) who just happened to be able to kill the unkillable man (and had the guts to do it), and they'd all live happily ever after?

Unlikely. Maybe Elena was just a little suspicious because it was Katherine brandishing the magic book, but it all seemed too easy. Things were never, ever that easy.

"So what's the catch?" she asked. She refused to get her hopes up about any of it until she knew Katherine's angle.

"No catch. I want Klaus dead more than any of you," Katherine protested. Elena thought she had just as good a claim to that title as Katherine did: Katherine had lost her family and spent half a millennium on the run. Elena had died, lost her aunt, her...whatever John was, her boyfriend, and been forced to send her brother into hiding. It was a pretty close toss-up in her book.

"You didn't hate him enough to kill him when you had the chance," Damon said.

"But Damon, if I had, you'd never have found _true love_," Katherine said. Coming from her, the words sounded like an accusation. "But no problem. Next time someone wants to rip you to shreds, I'll let them. We shouldn't have to wait very long."

"And you just now happened to remember that Emily gave you this book two centuries ago?" Elena asked, ignoring Katherine's barbs. "Where was it during the sacrifice? Or before homecoming? Why wait until now to tell us?"

"Emily gave me a lot of things," Katherine said. "And I'm not exactly fluent in witch. Since your last brilliant plan went up in flames, I've been reassessing the situation, taking a look at some of my old things. And I found that. But hey, if you don't want it, I'm sure I could find someone else interested in it." She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, smiling impishly. "You know,_ Elijah _always liked me, and he knows his way around a spell book. I bet he'd be interested in whatever's in here." She made for the door, but Damon held his arm out.

"You've made your point, Katherine. We need you. You're very important and you're the center of attention. So are you going to give us the book or not?" Damon asked, unimpressed by her ploy.

Katherine turned back towards them, but her attention wasn't focused on Damon. She was looking squarely at Elena. The mischievous, smirking woman was gone, replaced by a girl who suddenly looked just as lost and young as Elena felt. "I don't know that you'll find what you need in here," she said softly. "But if you do, promise me you'll finish it once and for all. For my family. They're your family too, after all."

As much as Elena tried to pretend it wasn't true, that it was magic or something that made her look like Katherine, they were blood. And as much as she hated Katherine and her slutty, manipulative, all-around-evil ways, Elena didn't have much blood left.

"No. When we kill Klaus, I'm going to do it for _me,_" Elena said fiercely.

Katherine gave her the book.

* * *

><p>"The pacing really isn't helping me concentrate," Damon said. He was sprawled on the bed, the book only inches away from his face as he tried to decipher the crabbed, faded handwriting.<p>

"I don't know why we don't just give the book to Bonnie," Elena said. Katherine had left shortly after handing off the book, warbling something about seeing what Stefan was up to, but not before grabbing Damon's ass on the way out. Damon had seized Katherine's wrist and thrown her off, but the whole thing still made Elena feel sick.

"Because it's two in the morning and I'd rather have a fresh witch on the case than a crabby, sleepy one. We have no reason to think Klaus suspects anything, and a couple of hours isn't going to change the situation. So just sit down and relax. You have to be tired," he said, still focused on the book.

"Don't tell me what to do, Damon," Elena said. She sounded sharp and shrewish and she knew it, but she couldn't stop the words. But she finally got his attention. He set the book aside, fixing her with his gaze.

"All right. Let's do this." He made a "come on" gesture with his hands. "Let's just get it all out. Otherwise it's just going to fester and turn nasty. So go ahead."

She couldn't help it; her lips twitched into a smile without her knowledge or consent. "I guess I'm overreacting a little, huh?"

Damon shrugged. "It's understandable. I got to have my fly-off-the-handle-with-jealousy moment;you get to have yours. Do you want me to get the bourbon?"

"Yes, please," she said.

"We're going to turn you into quite the little wino if we're not careful," Damon said as he crossed the room to rummage in his sock drawer. "Where do you want to start?"

Elena sunk onto the edge of the bed, one hand coming to rest on her bandaged shoulder. She winced—not a great idea. It _hurt_, a dull throbbing pain. But she didn't regret what she'd done. She'd needed to become her own person, to create aphysical difference between the two of them. When she looked at Katherine, so like her in every way except that jaded, cynical look in her ancestor's eyes, Elena was afraid she was seeing her own future. And she refused to take that path. So long as she could still feel pain, Elena knew she wouldn't become like Katherine.

"You two just have so much history together," Elena sighed. "I mean, she turned you. How come you didn't get that sire bond thing?" Or maybe he had. All those years obsessing about her, plotting, biding his time until the comet lit the sky again—maybe that _was _the bond.

"There's a world of difference between history and siring, Elena," he said. "It's not like Tyler—if Katherine told me to kill you, I'd tell her to go fuck herself." He triumphantly produced a half-full bottle, taking a long pull before tossing it to her. "Yeah, I loved her. A lot. For a long time. And she systematically took my heart and ground it into teeny tiny pieces while she laughed. I got over the love thing."

Elena toyed with the bottle. "Liar."

He gave her that sad little smile of his. "Yeah. Of course I am. We're never going to be entirely free from them; you know that." He settled down next to her, stealing the bottle for another nip.

"It's not fair," she said, but she knew it was true. They'd both be haunted by the love that might have been, if only things had been ever-so-slightly different—if Stefan had been the one to leave for the war, if Damon hadn't been bitten. No matter how strong their love, the what if's would never entirely fade away.

"Sure isn't," he said, offering her the bottle again. She took it this time, managing not to cough as she gulped the burning liquid, but Damon still laughed at the look on her face. "Maybe we don't have to worry about you turning into Ric just yet. What else?"

"I look like her," Elena said.

"Yeah. You do," Damon said simply.

"I'm _related _to her," Elena said.

"It gets really gross when you put it like that, Elena. And you're removed by about fifty generations, so don't let her manipulate you about your kinship." He sighed. "What do you want me to say? That I was originally attracted to you because you looked like her? Of course I was; I was still head-over-heels in love with her when we first met. I'd say the bigger accomplishment is that I still love you now _in spite of_ the fact you look like her. Or she looks like you, I've never really known which way that works."

"I think it's that I look like her, because she was here first, but that's not important." Elena rested her head against his shoulder. "What's important is that you slapped her hand away. What's important is that even though you knew I was flipping out and being a total jealous, bitchy teenager, you still wanted to talk me down off the ledge."

"You don't get to have many teenager moments, Elena. You deserve one every once in a while," he said, wrapping his arms gingerly around her, not wanting to jar her shoulder. "Though I'd prefer if they involved more whining and less bloodletting in the future. Trust me, biting would have been a _lot _more fun."

"It was a good idea and you know it. Unless you really wanted to guess which of us was which," Elena said.

Damon lifted her chin gently. "I'd know. I'll always know." He kissed her then, and Elena remembered how the night had begun. It seemed like a lifetime ago that her biggest concern had been what it would be like to sleep with him. If only all dilemmas were so simple. "You're the much better kisser, Elena," he smirked.

Elena laughed, and he pulled her down onto the bed. "What about the book? Shouldn't we-"

"It can wait. I can't."


	23. Stolen

"Aren't you going to invite us in?" Damon asked with a disarming smile. Elena groaned. Bonnie was unamused by Damon's request. She stepped out of her house and onto the porch, shutting the door quietly behind her.

"I'm going to say this once, and it's only for Elena's sake. Not yours," she said. "That's the only joke you get. The _only_ one. From here on out, you think very carefully before you open your mouth, because the next time you so much as look at me sideways, I will not stop popping bubbles in your brain until you go insane from the pain and are left a pathetic, quivering mess. Even more than you are now. Then, and only then, will I put you out of your misery." She took a step forward, standing toe-to-toe with the vampire. "Do you understand me?"

Damon looked down at the witch, his smile cold as ice. Elena saw him consider a witty retort, but he wisely abandoned it. Even after everything she'd done to him, he respected Bonnie. Didn't necessarily like her, but she had guts, and that counted for something in Damon's book. He nodded.

Was this what it was going to be like every time Bonnie and Damon were in the same room? Bonnie had some compelling reasons to hate vampires in general and Damon in particular. What was Elena supposed to say- "Bonnie, you should really get over the fact that your Grams died saving Damon from his own idiotic actions. It's all okay now because I love him, so can't you just be happy for us?" Not happening. Elena knew Damon and Bonnie would never be friends, but she wished Bonnie would stop threatening to kill Damon.

"Thanks for saying that for _my _sake," Elena said drily. "We got it. We didn't come here to fight. We came to help." Elena offered her the book.

Bonnie eyed the book suspiciously for a moment, but her curiosity won out. She accepted the old leather-bound tome, flipping through its worn, yellowed pages. "Where did you find this?"

"The Witch House," Elena lied smoothly. Damon shot her a surprised glance, but made no move to correct her. "It was mixed in with some old junk, hadn't been touched in years. I think—I think it might have been Emily's."

Elena hated lying to her friend. Despised it. But Bonnie would never trust the book if she knew where it really came from. They needed her to be able to look at the book objectively, without Katherine's baggage clouding her judgment. What did it matter where they'd foundthe book, so long as it had the information they needed?

"Really? I thought I'd been through every book there," Bonnie murmured, but she was already engrossed in the crumbling pages. "But it's Emily's handwriting."

"I think Klaus moved some stuff around when he was there," Damon said. "Might have unearthed a cache." He squeezed Elena's hand.

"We don't know that there's anything in there; it didn't make any sense to me. But it might at least give you some new ideas. Have you and your mom found anything?" Elena asked.

Bonnie tore her eyes away from the book, shaking her head. "No. Mom's been...out of the game for a while. It's taking her some time to get used to being around magic again. And mostly we've just been going through books, trying to find a clue. But I still think—I _know_- we can get it open. It's just going to take more time. I know we don't have a lot of that, but-"

"If time's what you need, then you'll have it," Damon said. "I'll make sure Klaus and company stay away. Just get the coffin open, Bonnie. Please," he said, all traces of jest gone, his face set in hard, grim lines.

Last night, they'd somehow managed to forget, just for a few hours, how screwed they were. But morning dawned, its harsh, bright light illuminating the full magnitude of the situation. If Bonnie's decoy spell didn't hold, if Klaus actually could open the coffin, all of their nightmares would come true in a heartbeat. Elena hoped that she, Damon, and Stefan would be the only casualties, but she knew that this tidal wave of horror would leave no survivors.

"I'm doing everything I can. Keep them away from here, but promise me you'll keep her safe, too," Bonnie said, jerking her head towards Elena.

"Always," Damon said.

"I'll let you know what I find. Be careful," Bonnie said. She disappeared into the house.

Elena slumped against the porch railing with a sigh. "The worst part is not knowing. I mean, how long has he had that coffin? Forever? He might never plan on opening it, or he might open it right now, since he's got his hybrid army and his family all together." So long as Klaus lived, they'd never really be safe. The hammer could fall in ten minutes or in a hundred years, and time meant so little when you were an arrogant immortal jerkoff.

"That's why I'm going to go find out what's going on at Casa de Klaus," Damon said. He fished in his pocket, withdrawing his car keys. "Here, you go home. Or to school, if you're really feeling adventurous. I've got prowling to do."

"You can't honestly think that I'm just going to twiddle my thumbs while everyone else is risking their lives to bring him down," Elena said. "I'm coming with you. I'm not just going to sit around and wait for him to kill me. We did that once, remember? It sucked."

"Not a chance. I hate to break it to you, but you're slow and you're loud. Taking you with me is a sure way for us both to get caught. And dead," Damon said.

"Then I'll act as a diversion or something! I need to do something to feel useful, Damon. I'm not afraid." Elena would never forget returning to the boarding house on that night with the moon so bright and full above them, knowing that _he _was waiting for her. The helplessness, the horrible pull of destiny—it had all been too much. She wouldn't be led like a lamb to slaughter ever again.

"But I am," he said quietly. He looked at her from under those dark, thick lashes. "If something happens to me, you'd be okay. You'd be sad for a while, but you have other good things in your life. Friends, family, a future. What do I have? A brother who hates me, a psychotic ex-girlfriend, and a list of enemies a mile long. You're all I've got." He cradled her face in his hands. "I'm asking you to do this for me. There will be plenty of danger I can't protect you from; you'll get your piece of the action. But for now, just try to get on with the business of living, and let me deal with the vampires."

He was right. Elena never had to consider a future without Damon, not really. She was the breakable one, the one who might wind up dead or chained to a blood drip for the rest of her (hopefully short) life. She was the one who refused to take the gift he offered so freely—immortality. He was the one who would have to watch her age, watch her slowly shrivel and diminish until there was nothing left. There was no future without Damon for her, but Damon knew that unless something changed, unless _she _changed, he would only have her for a few decades, if they were very lucky. How could she risk herself unnecessarily just so she felt useful?

"You know I can't say no to you when you put it like that," she said, her hands covering his. "Just this once. I'm not going to sit on the sidelines through this all," she warned.

"Wouldn't dream of keeping you on the bench, Elena," he said. He knew he'd won, the smirky bastard. He leaned in to kiss her, but he stopped short with a chuckle, listening to a muffled sound Elena couldn't quite catch.

"What?" Elena asked.

"Bonnie. She asked, very nicely, if we could _not _make out on her front porch. Apparently, it's making her lose her appetite." Damon stepped away from Elena. "You got it, Bon. Have fun!" he yelled. Damon drew Elena down the steps and onto the sidewalk. Then he took her in his arms and kissed her. "I'll be back soon, safe and sound. Promise."

"No risks," she said. "Don't be a hero."

"Oh, please. Have you _met_ me? I don't do heroics." He stole another kiss for the road. "Love you." And he was gone.


	24. Promised

_Damn, ya'all. 30,000+ words. 24 chapters. Insanity. I know this story is a little unorthodox with its daily short updates, but it helps keep me honest and on track, so thanks for putting up with it, and for favoring me with your incredibly sweet reviews. Can't thank you enough for those. I'll be off Thursday so we can all fangirl over the new episode (which, about time, right?) but never fear, a new chapter will be waiting for you on Friday. _

Elena chose school. The prospect of spending a day moping around the house worrying about Damon just didn't appeal, and if she really was serious about going to college next year, she probably should clock some classroom time. But more than that, school was an escape. What had once been that annoying thing she wedged in between cheerleading practice and parties was now a lifeline to normalcy. Elena was never going to be a bookworm, but it was nice to be pulled into discussions about the Constitution or mitosis instead of worrying about the life cycle of a hybrid.

"Hey stranger," Caroline said brightly. There were other benefits of coming to school. Elena shut her locker, turning toward her friend with a smile.

"Hey, Care." She pulled the blonde into a tight hug. "Missed your face."

"Oh, don't even _look _at my face. It's one of life's crueler jokes that vampires can still get dark circles under their eyes. How is that fair? My heart doesn't even beat, how can I have dark circles?" Caroline said, but it was all with weary good humor. Elena cast a worried look over her shoulder, but she knew that in the hustle and bustle of the hallway, Caroline's flip remarks would go unnoticed.

"Shut up. You look great, as always," Elena assured her. Sure, she did look a little pale and tired, but Elena was sure she looked far worse. No matter how bad things got, Caroline had the uncanny ability to look adorable. "How are things going, with...?"

"The sire breaking? No clue; Daddy won't let me anywhere near them anymore. Not since he got out of the hospital." She sighed as they headed for first period. "I mean, it makes sense. Tyler's nearly killed just about every member of my family now, y'know? But I still wish I could be there for him. Changing just sucks so hard for him. And he's trying. He's really serious about breaking the bond."

"He _should _be, after what he did to you," Elena said. It was unfair to blame Tyler, but deep down, she couldn't help but think that if he'd tried a little harder, if he'd loved Caroline a little more, he never would have bitten her, sire bond be damned. Now Klaus could just waltz into the Forbes house at any time, and Caroline was in his debt. Klaus always collected on his debts.

"Yeah, well, I think he's paid for that a couple times over now. And I'm alive and Daddy's alive, so let's just stop talking about it, okay?" Caroline said hurriedly. Was that a flush coloring Caroline's pale cheek? Couldn't be. She must just be upset that Elena was criticizing Tyler. Fair enough; Elena didn't really have the moral high ground when it came to boyfriends. "Besides, don't you want to tell me why you smell like blood?"

Elena blinked. She was good. "Oh. Um. Yeah. You should probably know. Katherine's back."

"And she _bit _you?" Caroline said, sounding appalled at the notion. Such a strange little vampire.

"No, no. Nothing like that; Damon would've killed her. I didn't want her to be able to impersonate me anymore, though. I just made a little cut. So everyone could tell the difference. It's on my left shoulder, just in case," Elena said. Was it wrong to tell Caroline what she hadn't told Bonnie? Maybe. Probably. But Caroline wasn't nearly as silly as everyone thought she was. And she always, always had Elena's back. She needed to know.

"Gross. Sorry that skank's back in town," Caroline said as they walked into English class, sliding into their usual seats. "Everything else okay?" she asked a little too carefully, a little too innocently.

"You mean with _Damon?_" Elena teased.

"Yeah. I'm not going to sit here and trash him, but you know what he did to me. He's not going to get away with that with you," Caroline said.

"He's not. I swear, he's not the same man," Elena said. "He's-" but she never got a chance to explain. Class began. Apparently, the Grapes of Wrath were growing heavy for the vintage.

* * *

><p>The rest of the day passed in a pleasant blur of mindless classes and meaningless gossip. She hadn't gotten a text from Damon, but she tried not to let it concern her. Damon was too sneaky to have been caught, and even if he had been, he could talk his way out of any situation. Probably he just hadn't found anything and had headed off for some drinking or whatever he did all day. Nothing to worry about. He'd probably be at home. Safe and sound. He'd promised her.<p>

Elena waved goodbye to Matt and headed across the parking lot. She drew to a halt as her car came into view. Perfect. Just what she needed. Not. Could she walk home? Yes, but it probably wasn't a great idea. Dammit, dammit, dammit. She threw her shoulders back and marched the rest of the way to the car.

"What do you want, Stefan?" she asked, jingling her keys. The sooner she got this over with, the sooner she could get home and make sure Damon had kept his promise.

"What? This is my school too, Elena. I have as much of a right to be here as you do," he reminded her, leaning against the hood of the car, arms crossed over his chest.

"Yeah, right. How many school administrators have you compelled to keep them believing that?" Elena retorted. It had seemed sweet at first, that Stefan would enroll in high school just to be close to her. But the ruse had worn thin, and there was no point in pretending anymore.

Stefan's shoulders shook in a silent bark of laughter. "Probably about as many as Damon has so they don't notice you're absent every other day," he said.

Elena's eyes flew open wide. "That's not—he hasn't-" she sputtered.

"Yeah, okay. I'm sure you're right; Damon would _never_ use compulsion on innocent people," Stefan said. "But I didn't come here to fight. You know Katherine's back?"

Elena tried to shake off her surprise and anger. It didn't matter, not really. She'd thought the school was sympathetic to her string of personal tragedies, but yeah, it was likely that Damon had helped them reach that conclusion. But still, did Stefan have to slander his brother at every turn? "Yeah. Of course I know. We were her first stop once she was in town—she couldn't wait to try to turn Damon's head."

"He doesn't normally need help with that," Stefan deadpanned.

"I thought you didn't come here to fight, Stefan. If that's true, then lay off," Elena said sharply. She started to unlock her car door, but Stefan put his hand over hers, stopping her. She looked up at him, surprised at the familiar gesture.

"I knew he would get what he wanted eventually," Stefan said softly, squeezing her hand. "He always does. And I almost wanted him to, when I left town. I knew his love would keep you safe. But he might be the bigger danger for you than Klaus, Elena. Be careful with him."

Listening to that quiet, intense voice, feeling that tight grip, Elena remembered why she'd loved this boy. The boy who took everything to heart, the man who took his duty to family so seriously he'd sacrifice everything to save the brother he didn't like but whom he loved fiercely. But that man had thrown her love away when it became inconvenient. Stefan might love more deeply than anyone she'd ever met—but he didn't love _her_ with that same terrifying depth. He never had, and he never could.

She drew her hand back. "I can handle myself, Stefan. You're the one who needs to be careful with Katherine in town."

"She's nothing," Stefan said.

"You and Damon are _both _liars where she's concerned. But, I've made your life easier. If you're not sure which doppelganger you're talking to, just look at the shoulder. If there's an X, it's me," Elena said.

"You—got a tattoo?" Stefan said, brows furrowing in confusion.

"Not quite. But I didn't want any more doppelganger hijinks." She moved towards the car door again. "That it?"

"Yeah." He started walk away, but stopped. "I'm glad you're okay."

Elena didn't respond. Couldn't respond. Breath caught in her throat, choking off all thought. Sitting on the driver's seat was a gleaming ring. A ring set with a strange blue stone. A ring adorned with a shining silver _D_.


	25. Slashed

Damon was dead, dead and ashes, laughing eyes closed forever and ever and she'd never see him again, never tell him a thousand things she thought she'd have forever to say. Why else would the ring be there? Klaus was taunting her. He knew, he knew everything, and Damon was already dead.

"Elena, what is it?" Stefan was there, and she hated him. Elena whirled on him, fists beating frantically against his chest, full of fury and loss.

"This is your fault! This is all your fault!" she cried. Dimly, she was aware she was making a scene, that the eyes of her classmates were on her, but nothing could be less important right now. Stefan's revenge and their _stupid _plan and their false hopes and her stubbornness had killed him. It was Stefan's fault; it was her fault.

Stefan brushed her aside, yanking the car door open. There was a rustling of paper. "Klaus has him," Stefan said, voice devoid of emotion. What did it matter that Klaus had a pile of ashes, a handful of dust?

"He's dead. He's dead and it's all our fault," Elena whispered, suddenly exhausted. The world seemed heavier, older, colder.

"No. He's not. Get a grip, Elena," Stefan said, thrusting the note into her hands with disgust in his eyes.

Tears blurred her vision, but Elena managed to read the note. On one side was Damon's own neat copperplate handwriting, a relic of a bygone era: "Let's get together and plot the destruction of your brother. XOXO, D. Salvatore." It didn't mean anything; it didn't make any sense. Elena flipped the note over. "Your ruse has been discovered. There is still time. E," it read in ornate cursive script.

The ring didn't mean Damon was dead—it was a warning. Elijah was a ruthless bastard, but he was repaying Damon's debt to him. Damon wasn't _okay, _but he was alive. The tears in her eyes dried at once, as if she stood in front of a great blazing fire that sucked every ounce of grief from her body, leaving only grim determination and certainty behind. She put the ring and the note into her pocket.

"Elena, this is a trap. You know it's a trap," Stefan said.

"Yes. That's why I'm walking into it, not you," Elena replied, her voice sounding distant even to her own ears. "You need to protect Bonnie and her mom. They're our only hope now."

"He's not worth your life," Stefan said, grabbing her arm.

"But he was worth yours?" Elena asked. Stefan flinched and dropped her arm as if she'd burned him. Now that the initial wave of annihilating despair had passed, Elena could think rationally about the situation. "Klaus can't kill Damon. He's the only one who knows where the coffins are."

"Not anymore," Stefan said. Elena looked at him in surprise, and he shrugged. "I told you, there aren't that many places to hide it in Mystic Falls. It's-"

"No, don't tell me. Go get Bonnie and her mom, take them there, and get that thing open," she ordered.

"And you're going to do what? Cry in front of Klaus until he gives Damon up? You can't beat him," Stefan said.

"I can't kill Klaus; I can only slow him down for a while. Whatever's in the coffin can kill him." God, she hoped that was true. "If we let him get it, it's game over forever. Besides, this is what you wanted, isn't it? Revenge? You gave up _everything_ for it, seems stupid to stop now." She slid into the driver's seat of Damon's Camaro and drove, leaving Stefan staring after her.

* * *

><p>Getting into Klaus' mansion was too easy. No guards, no lurking hybrids. True to his word, they were all still gone from Mystic Falls, and he hadn't replaced them with more mundane security staff, apparently. But there was a gift waiting for her on the doorstep: three slender daggers. Elijah. How long had they been undaggered? Was Rebekah already awake and looking for revenge? What about the two other brothers—whose side were they on? Was this move genius or madness? Only one way to find out. Elena tucked the daggers into the waistband of her jeans, hidden by her shirt. They joined a long, wicked knife and stake she'd found in Damon's car.<p>

The instant she stepped into the house, the overwhelming stench of blood assailed her. It wasn't quite the penny-like smell of human blood; it had an undercurrent of iron, a hint of spice and age and something sinister. _Keep it together, Gilbert,_ she told herself sternly. _No one to save you this time if you screw it up. Keep it together for him. _Three coffins sat in the foyer, all still closed. How long did it take for them to wake up after the daggers were pulled? There was no way of knowing.

"Niklaus, you must pace yourself. If you kill him, we may never know the resting place of the final coffin," Elijah said from the dining room. He sounded unconcerned, as if he were discussing the possibility it might rain.

Klaus seemingly ignored his brother, focused on his bloody work. "It can all be over in an instant, Damon. Just tell me where it is, and it will all be over. And you needn't worry your head about Elena. I'll make sure she's safe. Maybe encourage her to spend some time with that football player, the blond one. Imagine how beautiful their children would be," Klaus purred.

There was a racking cough. "I've never liked blonds," Damon whispered, hoarse and barely audible. Elena's heart was in her throat, hearing that ravaged voice. "Give me a brunette any day."

She couldn't wait any longer. She burst into the room, the two Originals looking at her in surprise, but she scarcely noticed. Blood lay thick on the floor in a sticky layer. They'd been at it for a while. And there in the center of the flood, was Damon. His shirt was gone, as were large strips of flesh from his chest, muscle glistening wetly. Elena had to look away when she saw something that looked like intestines laying on the floor beside him. As much as she loved him, as much as his pain made her want to scream and cry and vomit and run and fight, she couldn't focus on him right now, only on her next move. The pain wouldn't kill him.

"Oh, Elena, I _am _glad you could join us. You're just in time. Tell me, do this country's public schools teach mythology? Are you familiar with Prometheus?" Klaus asked pleasantly. His hands were coated in blood to the elbow, a few smudges on his cheeks.

Elena was thrown off guard. "The guy who discovered fire?" she asked uncertainly.

"Something like that. When Zeus, king of all the gods, discovered that Prometheus had shared the divine secret of fire with mortals, he condemned Prometheus to a terrible fate. He was chained to a rock, and every day a monstrous eagle would descend from the heavens and devour his liver. Every day it grew back, only to be devoured again. And again," the hybrid said with a smile. "Don't you wonder what that would be like, Damon?"

"Less talk, more torture," Damon wheezed. "She doesn't know anything, just ignore her."

"Tragically, you're correct. However, her presence might give you motivation that mere physical pain alone can't provide,"Klaus said, rising from where he crouched beside Damon's prone body.

"You're going to have to make a tough choice, Klaus," Elena said, approaching him. There was no room for fear anymore. This was her only shot.

"And what's that, sweetheart?" he asked with a smirk.

"Elena, will you _please _shut up?" Damon croaked.

"Do you want what's in that coffin, or do you want your hybrids?" Elena asked. Confusion flickered across Klaus' face, those red, fleshy lips pulling into a frown. "Sure, you could torture me in the hope that Damon will crack and tell you where the coffin is, but we both know you can't kill me, so it's not much of a threat. Or you could torture Damon so I beg him to tell you where it is, but here's the bottom line: if you kill him, I figure you can make maybe three hybrids from the blood you can scoop from the ground after I slit my throat." She took another step forward, less than a foot of space separating them now. Elena cast a quick glance at Elijah, who gave a nearly imperceptible nod. "But there's one last choice." She produced the three daggers. "You can start running right now, before _they_ wake up."

"Too late," a male voice said from behind her. Klaus' eyes looked ready to explode out of his head in surprise and rage. Elena didn't bother looking at the speaker; he was irrelevant. She dropped the three daggers to the floor with a clatter and flew to Damon's side. There was a ruckus as the Originals scuffled for the daggers.

"Can you walk?" Elena asked, but the instant she asked, she knew what an absurd question it was. Much of the skin on his chest had been flayed away, his abdomen cracked open to reveal a soup of guts.

"You shouldn't be here," Damon murmured.

"Little late for that argument," Elena said. They didn't have much time until the Originals sorted themselves out, though it seemed Rebekah and the other brother had joined the fray. She couldn't carry Damon, not as dead weight. If they were going to get out of here, he was going to have to heal. She gripped Alaric's knife. Hysterically, she tried to remember that silly nonsense Caroline had once told her: "If you're going to kill yourself, remember: you go down the road, not across the street." Before Damon could argue, she'd slashed a horizontal line on her wrist and pressed it to his mouth. This wasn't how she'd wanted this to happen; probably wasn't how he'd wanted it to be, either. But there was no choice. There was no time for squeamishness: she was the only available blood source. If he didn't drink from her now, he never would.

He started to struggle feebly, her blood dripping down his cheek. He opened his mouth to protest, but the instant the blood hit his tongue, he was lost. She lifted his head gently, pressing him against the gaping wound. It was nothing like sex; it was a lot like pain. But pleasure was the last thing on her mind as he suckled at her wrist, his tongue soft and wet against her torn flesh. Rebekah appeared to have put out both of Klaus' eyes with one of those silver daggers.

Damon turned his head away. "Enough. Help me?" Elena turned back towards him. There was color in his cheeks and many of his chest wounds were beginning to form new, pink skin. Elena shoved his ring onto his finger and wrapped her arms around the broken man, helping him to stand. Damon held his guts in with one hand.

Slowly, laboriously, they skirted the battling Originals. Klaus was nearly unrecognizable as his siblings took turns skewering him with those wicked daggers, but Elijah caught their eye on the way out the door. "My debt to you for my freedom is repaid. We are even," he said calmly. Then he sliced off Klaus' ear.

Somehow, they made it to the car and drove away from the house of horrors. Elena had no idea where she was going, only that it was _away. _They needed blood, she needed to bandage her wrist, Damon needed rest. She turned to look at him, semi-conscious, slumped and bloody in the passenger's seat. So many things she wanted to say to him, but she was without words. But then those laughing eyes cracked open, and he smiled faintly. "How come you get to be a hero and I don't?" he whispered. He managed to move one hand, covered in blood and other unmentionables, to cover hers.

"Because my plan _worked_," she said, hand clutching his with all her might. That moment, that horrible moment when she'd been sure he was gone and she would have to face a thousand tomorrows without his laugh, his terrible jokes, his hands and his lips and his kindness and his cruelty had only deepened her certainty:They were playing for keeps.

"My hero," he sighed. "Love you."

That was all that needed to be said.


	26. Burdened

Elena ran back to the car, casting constant glances over her shoulder. She hadn't dared to drive right to the boarding house. There was too much danger the house was being watched. Instead, she'd concealed the car about a mile away, just off the road under some low trees. It wasn't perfect, and Damon was probably going to kill her when he saw what shape his car was in, but he wasn't in any state to protest. Blessedly, he'd lost consciousness. While her emergency blood transfusion had helped his superficial wounds and given him the strength to flee, his gut still gaped open, and she knew the pain must be extraordinary.

The duffel bag banged against her knees as opened the car door. She'd stayed in the house only long enough to grab essentials: an armful of blood bags, clean clothes, and wet wipes for Damon, the first aid kit and a few sugary energy drinks for her. She'd jumped at every sound, started at every creak of floorboards. But in the end, she got in, got out, and got back to Damon safely.

He was still out cold, but he stirred when she ripped the first blood bag open. She held it to his lips, and he guzzled the cold, thick contents, veins bulging beneath this eyes as blackness spread along his cheekbones. Elena never ceased to marvel at the fierce beauty of his vampiric features, how the blood spread like finest lace and transformed him into a dark god of vengeance and fury.

Elena helped him to drink three more bags before the hole in his stomach finally began to close. He was able to drink two more bags under his own power while Elena tried to bandage her wrist. But it was no use, her hands shook too badly.

The adrenaline that had fueled her for the past hour was gone, and the full reality of what she'd done hit her like a physical blow. Damon, pale and brave and drenched in blood. Elijah, calmly repaying his debt. Klaus, mutilated by his screaming, demonic siblings, his face a bloody ruin. Her own role in it all, the revenge Klaus would exact upon her when he finally broke free. The feel of Damon's teeth scraping against her wrist, blood flowing out of her in an endless stream. It was all too much. Her breath came in short gasps, her heart raced out of control.

Then his hands were on hers, steadying her. "Let me," he said, his voice weary but full of strength and vitality. The dark god was gone, and his hands were gentle as they wrapped the gauze around her wrist. "We're going to have to do something about all your cutting," he teased.

"Thought I lost you," she managed.

"For a minute there? So did I. But then there you were, being all Xena, and I knew I was stupid to worry," Damon said, tucking the end of the bandage into the wrapping. "Not _quite_ as stupid as you were for trying that stunt, but still." He smiled, and she flung herself into his arms. The gearshift dug into her hip, Damon was sticky with blood, but she didn't care. He drew her into his lap, holding her close, stroking her back and whispering nonsense into her ear. "It's okay. I've got you now. It's okay."

She didn't know how long he held her, fingers twining through her hair, but eventually, her heart slowed, her trembling stopped, and she accepted that this was real, that he was whole and safe again, if only for the moment.

"What happened? How could you let him catch you?" she asked, climbing off his lap and offering him the box of wet wipes. Damon began cleaning the blood and gore from his face and hands.

"You make it sound like I did it on purpose," Damon complained. "Trust me, there was no heroism, just terrible timing." Damon had been lurking around the house, trying to eavesdrop on conversations inside, but everything was quiet. Too quiet. But he didn't realize the danger until Klaus was right behind him. "Then it was all fun and games for an hour or two until you showed up," he concluded. "But how did you know what happened?"

"Elijah. He left your ring and a note." She dug the crumpled paper from her pocket, offering it to him. "I can't believe you signed a note to him 'hugs and kisses,'" Elena said. She cracked open one of the energy drinks, taking a long gulp. It was nasty stuff, but she needed the sugar now, needed to regain her strength after her blood loss. Their day wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

"Oh come on, Elena. With that hair and that Eurotrash accent, you know he's dreamy," Damon said with a wink. "Guess it worked, though. His gratitude saved my ass."

"No, his gratitude let _me _save your ass," Elena corrected.

"Oh, yeah. And while I'm grateful for the knight-in-shining-armor routine, you can't do things like that, Elena. You can't risk your life for me," he said, picking up the clean shirt. "You definitely can't threaten to _slit your own throat_ for me."

"It worked, didn't it? What else could I do, Damon? I can't fight them physically. Mortality was the only weapon I had," she said.

"You could have let me go. I've lived three lifetimes, Elena. You haven't even had one. You dying for me isn't just wrong, it's unfair," he said. He pulled the shirt over his head, wincing at the movement. She reached for him, but he shook his head, warding her off. "Just a little tender. I'm fine. And while we're at it, who the hell do you think you are feeding me your blood, anyway?"

Elena stared at him. This was the thanks she got after risking everything for him, opening her own veins for him? "You aren't serious right now, are you?"

"Damn right I am. I'm glad I'm not dead and all, but didn't we go through this? You're my endgame, Elena. Without you, there's nothing to keep me here. You jump, I jump."

Elena blinked. "Did you really just quote _Titanic_ to me?"

Damon threw his hands up in exasperation. "Really? That's what you want to take out of that speech? A Leo DiCaprio reference?"

"Yeah, because the rest of it's too stupid to even talk about. This isn't all about you, Damon. I'm not your damsel in distress. If _either _of us is going to survive this, we have to be partners. You save me, and I save you right back. So cut this macho bullshit and deal with the fact that your girlfriend just saved your life. Wait twenty minutes and you'll probably have a chance to pay me back," she said.

With that uncanny speed, his hands were on her face, eyes intense and sober. "Partners, Elena. That's what we are. You've already saved me more than you'll ever know. But don't ever forget: I will always choose you. No matter what I have to do or who I have to sacrifice." He stroked her cheek. "No matter what, you have to endure. That's your burden, and I will _force _you to carry it," he said fiercely.

He started to kiss her, but her phone buzzed insistently and she pulled away, looking down at the thing. He sighed and began to shimmy into the clean pair of pants she'd brought him.

"Looks like you'll get your chance to repay me sooner than you thought," she said grimly. "The coffin's open."


	27. Fallen

Damon told her never to try to reach the heart through the chest, because that solid plate of bone would block access.

He was wrong. The knife slid so easily between Alaric's ribs. There was the slightest resistance, the grinding sound of metal against bone, and then the blade was in his heart, popping it like a water balloon. And he was dead. Her teacher, her trainer, her older brother and surrogate father was dead at her hand.

Now all she could do was wait, to hope that his ring wasn't irreparably broken, to hope that being a doppelganger actually qualified her as a supernatural being, to hope that she hadn't been too late and Alaric wasn't gone forever, to hope that yet another family member hadn't crossed into the other world.

The coffin had turned out to be a bust. Damon drove them to the old Viking tunnels ("My love for you only extends so far where the Camaro's concerned. Poor baby," he'd cooed to the ill-treated car as they traded seats), but there was little to see. Bonnie and her mom were both out cold, the coffin was empty, and Stefan was grouchy.

"They found something in Katherine's book. It's called a blood knot, and they needed two generations from a shared line to break it," Stefan explained, rubbing his head. A gash was just closing above his eyebrow. "They were chanting and it seemed to be working, and then I woke up and the coffin was empty."

"You let it get away?" Damon growled. "All this work, and you just let that thing waltz out of here?"

Elena rolled her eyes and stepped into the No Vampire Zone. Damon had assured her that both Bonnie and Abby were alive, but she felt better when she checked their pulses for herself. The bickering continued in the corridor.

"Yeah, that's exactly what happened, Damon. I purposefully hit myself in the head with a rock so I missed what was in the coffin, just to piss you off. Once again, you've discovered my sinister master plan," Stefan said.

"Grow up," Elena panted as she dragged a still-unconscious Bonnie towards them, careful to keep her head clear of the floor. Her friend seemed fine, just...sleeping. Elena was so proud of Bonnie. To think that less than a year ago she'd joked that she was psychic and her greatest magical accomplishment was floating a few feathers. Now she was a powerful witch in her own right, and had stared down the biggest, baddest monsters on the planet. Sure, she could get a little power mad sometimes, but Bonnie had worked so hard and sacrificed so much to keep them all safe.

"So if you were an unspeakably old and powerful _something_ who'd been locked in a coffin for a thousand years or more, where would you go?" Damon asked as he scooped Bonnie up, throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Elena turned towards them just in time to see the brother share a _look_. "No. Absolutely not. You are not going back to the mansion," she insisted. She left Abby for the moment, storming back into the corridor.

"Elena, we have to find out what was in there," Damon started, but Elena cut him off, jabbing him in the chest with her finger. She was _furious_.

"Did you miss the part where your intestines were on the outside, Damon? Or how about the part where the whole Original family was bonding by cutting pieces off of Klaus? They're busy destroying each other right now—we should _let _them," she said. Were the Salvatores really this stupid, to charge into a nest full of pissed off, unkillable vampires? Of course they were.

"You might be right, but stop poking me," Damon said irritably, grabbing her extended index finger. "If what's in there is the key to killing him, then maybe it's already gone to do it. Nothing we can do either way."

"We probably should still go take a look, though," Stefan said, a strange gleam in his eyes. The boys were up to something, and Elena didn't like it. One idiotic Salvatore was bad enough, but when they were together, she swore they shared a brain. She started to open her mouth to argue, but Damon cut her off.

"How about we make you a deal? You go get Witchy Mama there, and we'll take the two of them home and then cruise through Mystic Falls, just to see if anything's up. We won't go anywhere near Klaus'," he said before she could argue. "Just a general check to see if anything's strange. And you'll go home—that is, _your _house—and hold down the fort. Get Ric up to speed. And we'll be back before you know it."

Elena started to argue, to ask why she had to go back to the Gilbert house, but then she realized the answer. Of course. Rebekah, Klaus, and Elijah could all enter the Salvatore Boarding house at any time—they'd been invited in. But only Elijah, the least threatening of the whole terrifying family, could get to her at home.

"The last time I let you out of my sight, Klaus made you his chew toy," she said. "Why can't I come with you? I have leverage."

"We aren't doing anything dangerous, Elena. We aren't even going to get out of the car," Damon coaxed. "Besides, like you said, they're too busy playing 'pin the dagger on Klaus' to even think about us. It'll take thirty minutes, tops."

Elena tugged her finger free and went back into the cavern to retrieve Abby. She needed a moment to think. She knew he was trying to protect her, but the image of him laying in a shattered heap of blood and entrails was going to haunt her every time she closed her eyes. She slid her arms under Abby's shoulders, dragging the woman out over the uneven floor. Once she'd cleared the threshold, Stefan picked Abby up as if she were weightless.

It was time to decide. Her eyes shot from one Salvatore to the other. "You have half an hour. If you aren't back at my house in _exactly _thirty minutes, I'm coming after you. And if you're lying to me, if I find out you tried to storm the Originals' mansion or something..." she let the warning trail off. She wasn't sure what she'd do, but rest assured it would be _bad._

Damon shifted Bonnie to his other shoulder, leaning down to kiss Elena. "I promised you last time no heroics; there weren't any. This time, I promise you I won't get caught. And that's a promise I intend to keep. Trust me, okay?"

She melted. Just a little. More of a thaw, really. But he'd won and he knew it. "Thirty minutes. That's _it_."

"You two done yet? Can we go find the world-destroying whatever?" Stefan asked bitterly. Elena looked at him, saw the hurt and envy lurking in his eyes behind a carefully constructed mask of coolness. And she was glad. It was wrong, but after a summer of searching for a man who didn't want to be found, a fall spent trying to see the good in his erratic, broken soul, and a winter of quiet acceptance that her lover was gone, a small, petty part of her couldn't help but exult in the pain she saw there.

She shook the emotion away, and the group silently surfaced. She'd taken the Camaro ("Stay _on _the road this time," Damon ordered) home, only to find a nightmare world of bloody hand prints and Alaric gasping for his last breath, begging her to kill him. And now she sat. And waited.

Elena drew her knees up to her chest, staring at Alaric's still body. Her phone buzzed like a hornet's nest, but she couldn't bear to speak to anyone right now. What new tragedy lurked? What new horror awaited? But the thing wouldn't shut up, so she answered it, silently waiting for the hammer to fall.

"I have bad news," Damon said. 

"I killed Alaric," Elena said flatly before he could elaborate.

There was utter silence. She knew Damon would never admit it, but he loved Alaric. This wasn't some trivial "bromance,"this was true friendship. Alaric was maybe the first real friend he'd ever had. Damon wasn't exactly easy to be friends with—not with his tendency to kill people first and ask questions later—but Alaric's steady nature, loyalty, and love of good bourbon had won Damon over. Elena didn't really know what Damon would do without the teacher in his life.

"I heard that wrong. Say it again," Damon commanded.

"He was dying, there was a knife, there was blood...There wasn't time, Damon. I stabbed him through the heart...The ring, Damon..." she trailed off.

"Right. Supernatural being and all. Just hang on, Elena, I'm on my way," he said tersely.

"Wait. What were you going to tell me?" Elena asked. What else could it possibly go wrong on this incredibly awful day? Had they found whoever was in the coffin? For a horrible moment, she was certain Stefan was dead, killed at the hand of some unknown menace, and her last words to him were so unkind, her last thoughts so cruel...

There was a moment of hesitation on the other end. "It's Caroline's dad, Elena. Someone got to him, too. Bill's dead."

Slowly, Elena set the phone down. On the other end of the line, she heard Damon's voice, but it was too far away, the words without meaning. She lay her head on Alaric's cold, motionless chest and the tears began to fall.


	28. Laughed

Elena counted the dead on her fingers.

One. She knew from Stefan that her mother had died first, had slipped beneath the waters and simply never resurfaced. Two. Her father was the next casualty, trading his life for hers, refusing to be saved until it was too late. She remembered them, side-by-side in their matching coffins. She'd insisted on seeing them one last time before they were lowered into the cold earth, Mom in her favorite red dress, Dad in a suit. No tie. He hated ties. Both gray and battered beneath the mortician's makeup, both familiar and unearthly and irrevocably dead

Three. Vicki. She wished she'd liked Vicki more, but Vicki was too much her mother's daughter. Elena had always believed that Jeremy was better than Vicki, that he'd outgrow his wild-child ways and leave her to a future that spiraled downwards, but Elea never wanted it to end like that, never wanted her to die a rabid animal.

Four. Grams. Even in her old age, she was so strong. But she was gone and cold and dead, too. Because of her. Because of Damon.

Five. Anna. Beautiful Anna, the eternal child. Anna who'd tried to kill her; Anna who loved Jeremy even beyond death.

Six. Lexi. She'd never given up on Stefan. No matter how hard he fought to escape her, no matter how hard he swore he didn't want to be saved, Lexi dove in and saved him anyway. But Elena had given up, and there was no Lexi to save him this time. More blood on Damon's hands.

Seven. Isobel. The mother she'd never known, the selfish girl who'd thrown love away with both hands to grab immortality. The capricious and cruel vampire. The woman who'd seen only disappointment in her daughter's eyes as flames engulfed her.

Eight. Jenna. Aunt and guardian, friend and confidant. She'd only wanted to be free to live her life, free to study and to love and to smoke the occasional joint and be the fun aunt. She was brave enough to try to save them all, even when she didn't understand the odds or the stakes.

Nine. John. The uncle she'd hated, the father she hadn't known. He was a zealot and a dick and a good man. She'd never shown him a scrap of love or gratitude, but he'd given his life for her anyway. He'd promised to love her, whether she was a human who lived a mortal life and bore children and died, or she became the thing he hated most in the world.

Ten. Bill. A father who doted on his daughter but left her, who returned to break her but found she was made of sterner stuff.

And then she was out of fingers, but there was still Alaric to count. The man who'd loved Isobel and Jenna, the teacher who'd taught her to survive, the guardian who stood by her even after everyone else was gone. Ric, the warrior and the broken man and the alcoholic. She'd killed him in cold blood.

So many dead. So many she couldn't even hold them all in her hands. How many more could she lose?

"He's going to be fine, Elena. He's got the ring, he's going to be fine," Damon said, suddenly kneeling next to her. Elena wasn't sure which of them he was trying to convince with his words.

She started to argue, started to pour our all her fears about why the ring wouldn't work, about how Alaric had nearly died last time, but then she saw Damon's pale, exhausted face, the worry and grief naked in his eyes, how his hands gripped Ric's arm, and she silenced herself. He knew the score. All they could do was wait.

"It'll just take time," Elena said, loosening her hold on Ric's blood-encrusted shirt. Damon nodded and drew her into his arms. His grip was nearly painful, but Elena wouldn't have moved for the world. They held silent vigil over their fallen friend. Elena's fingers twined through Damon's. He'd lost, too.

His mother. How long ago had she died, what had become of her? Was it illness? War? A supernatural attack? He never spoke of her. His father, sacrificed to fuel Stefan's transition. He'd thought he lost Katherine for so long, mourned her and hoped for her return. Rose, pale and tragic. Andie, his plaything and pet. Damon had lost and found Stefan so many times now, she couldn't even keep track. Yes, Damon knew loss.

But somewhere in this dark tunnel, they'd found each other. Each death, reaching back a hundred years and more, had brought them together. Was it worth the trail of broken bodies that lay scattered behind them to know this love now? No. But as they sat together now, clutching each other for dear life, she was glad. If the road had to be so long and so dark, she was glad they could at least walk it together.

Elena didn't know how long they sat in silence, but eventually she found words. "Is Caroline okay?" she asked quietly.

"Of course not," Damon said. "But she will be. Matt and Liz are with her."

"What happened to him? To Mr. Forbes?"

"Don't know all the details, but from what I could make out, someone stabbed him."

"They _stabbed _him?" Elena asked, her eyes wide.

"Yeah. I saw the knife, it was one of Ric's. He used to keep it in my car," Damon said. He shifted against her. "The stake that killed the M.E. was his, too."

"You aren't suggesting that _Ric's _a murderer," she said indignantly.

His arms tightened around her. "No. Unless they were between him and a bottle of Jim Beam, Ric would never hurt a human."

It was funny (and true), but Elena couldn't bring herself to smile at the joke. "I can't believe that a knife killed Bill. A vampire hunter, brought down by something so..._mundane," _she said. It was almost an anti-climax.

Damon hesitated. "That's not what killed him."

Dots began to connect in Elena's mind. "Oh, no. Oh no, Damon, please don't tell me-"

"Yeah. He still had vampire blood in his system. He started to transition," Damon said, stroking her hair soothingly.

"And he wouldn't feed," she finished.

Damon didn't answer; he was staring at Ric. An instant later, the teacher let out a great gasp. One moment he was dead, and the next he wasn't.

"Welcome back, Ric," Damon said with his most nonchalant smile, as if the last few hours of terror and waiting had been nothing to him. Casually, Damon raised his own wrist to his lips, puncturing two neat holes in his flesh. "Drink?"

* * *

><p>Ric tried to protest that he didn't need the blood, but the persistent, gaping wound in his chest said otherwise. They dosed him with vampire blood, interrogated him fruitlessly (the attacker struck from behind, he hadn't seen or heard anything), and tucked him into bed with a glass of bourbon and an arsenal of weapons close at hand. He claimed both gave him peace of mind.<p>

Elena called Matt. "She's pretty torn up, Elena," he said. "But she and her mom wanted to be alone. She's one of the strongest people I know; just give her some time. Call in the morning, maybe. I'm headed home, but I can stop by if you need me," Matt offered.

None of them deserved Matt. Least of all her. "No, that's okay, but thanks. I just wanted to make sure she didn't need anything. Thanks for being there for her, Matt."

"She's my friend, I'll always be there for her. Same as I would be for you," he said.

"I know. Goodnight, Matt," she said. She clicked the phone off and headed downstairs.

"Donovan gives me cavities," Damon said. He stood at the window staring into the night, a glass of Ric's secret stash of good liquor in hand.

"How do you still have the energy for sarcasm?" Elena asked.

"Laugh or cry, Elena. Those are the only two real choices we have in life." He finished his drink and set the glass down. When he kissed her, he tasted of bourbon and his own ferrous, alien blood. "Besides, _we _aren't dead yet."

She smiled, but it was hard. Smiling felt like a betrayal for all those she'd counted, all those who'd gone before her. But thinking back on them all, she knew every single one of her would want her to be happy. None would begrudge her a smile.

"Not yet. I feel like I escaped from a zombie movie, though," Elena said. How many people's blood was she covered in? She couldn't even stand to think about it.

"The cute girl always survives to the end," Damon teased, brushing her matted hair back from her face. "But I'll wash your back if you wash mine."

Squeezed into her tiny tub, they finished their interrupted bath from a lifetime ago. And together, they chose to laugh.

* * *

><p><em>Special thanks to long-time reviewer Jade2099 for helping me work through some thoughts for this chapter, though I doubt she knows she did. Thanks.<em>


	29. Invited

_We're up over 40,000 words in this little story, which completely blows my mind. It's all thanks to your encouragement, friendship, reviews, and alerts that I'm still doing this, so I want to thank you. PM me your story ideas—a scene you'd love to see, a missing moment, an idea you've always had, from the show or from "Consumed," any characters. I'll pick one idea (or more if they're really good) and write a short story when we hit 50,000 words as away of showing my thanks. Because you guys are just incredible._

_Oh, you didn't come to hear me babble? You came to watch pretty people in dangerous and emotional situations? If you insist._

* * *

><p>Afternoon sun was streaming into the bedroom when Elena finally awoke the next day. It was a mark of Damon's exhaustion that he was still asleep. The torture had taken its toll. Even with the impressive amount of blood he'd consumed yesterday, ghostly scars still peppered his chest and a puckered gash marred his stomach. She knew the scars would be gone before the day was over, but it was a testament to Klaus' skill that any trace of the ordeal remained. Even a vampire could only heal so quickly.<p>

Bit by bit, Elena eased out of Damon's grasp and then out of bed entirely. Let him sleep for a while longer. The odds were good that something awful would happen soon; he'd need all his strength to deal with whatever was in the coffin.

That damn coffin. All their plotting, planning, hoping and scheming had come to nothing. A quick glance at her phone revealed texts from Stefan. No new information. A text from Bonnie letting her know she and her mom were alive and well was comforting, but still not useful. What if the coffin had been a red herring all along? What if Klaus had arranged for the mystery coffin to distract them from what he really wanted—his siblings? Had they created a decoy of a decoy? But then why would the witches have sent Bonnie those dreams that told her how to open it? Why had Klaus acted so desperate to get it back if it was all a ruse?

Elena's head hurt. She couldn't ponder any of this without coffee. Knowing her luck, whatever had been in there would stroll into the kitchen any time now, so she might as well face it fully caffeinated. She lay her teddy bear on the pillow beside Damon, its black, glassy eyes watching him.

To her surprise, Ric was already awake and staring at the coffee pot while it percolated. "You sure you should be up?" she asked as she walked into the kitchen.

"Why not? I'm good as new, thanks to Damon," Ric said with a twinge of bitterness. "And to you."

"Don't thank me. Not for that," Elena said. In truth, she didn't even want to think about what had happened last night, much less talk about it. She knew it was their only option, that no ambulance could have arrived in time to save him. But she'd never forget the feel of the knife as it slid into his body, the death rattle, the fixed stare.

The coffee pot buzzed, and the two busied themselves with the quiet routine of fixing their cups—extra cream and sugar for Elena, black and bitter for Alaric. "Just wish I could've seen the bastard's face and settled this once and for all," he said.

Elena hesitated. They'd told him about Bill last night, but hadn't gone into any detail. "You probably should know that the knife that killed Bill was one of yours. So was the stake that killed the medical examiner. Damon recognized both of them."

Alaric nearly spat out his coffee. "_What?"_

"'fraid there's more bad news," Damon said as he breezed into the kitchen. He plucked Elena's mug from her fingers, taking a sip. He grimaced. "Little coffee with your sugar, Elena? Yuck."

"You can't drink my coffee and then complain about it. Get your own," Elena protested, reclaiming her cup.

"Forget the coffee. What do you mean, 'more bad news'?" Ric asked..

Damon took his time pouring his own cup of coffee. Black. "Had a little chat with Liz last night. Apparently they found fingerprints on that stake from the first murder." He nodded towards Elena. "They were a match for yours."

It was Elena's turn to choke on her coffee. "But that's impossible!"

"Impossible for them to be _your _fingerprints. But let's think, who's identical to you in every way and would love to frame you for murder?" Damon asked.

Understanding dawned. "That bitch!" Elena spat. She hadn't even considered that the two of them shared fingerprints, of all things. "Don't you wonder how exact this doppelganger thing is?" Katherine had asked. And she'd known all along just how exact it was. Down to the very tips of their fingers.

"That's Katherine for you," Damon said.

"Wait a minute," Ric said, trying to catch up. "Assuming Katherine's back in town-"

"Oh. Yeah. Forgot to mention that. She is," Elena said.

"Thanks for keeping me in the loop, guys," Ric said with annoyance. "You don't think I might need to know these kinds of things?"

"Next time, we'll make an appointment to bring you up to speed. We'll put it right between 'binge drinking' and 'wooing Dr. Psycho,'" Damon said.

Alaric shot Damon a dirty look. "If it was _your_ psychotic ex-girlfriend who's been killing people, that means it wasn't Meredith," he said.

"Doesn't mean she's still not crazy," Damon retorted.

Elena sighed and set her mug down. They could be at this for a while. She began rooting around in the pantry. Noodles. A jar of tomato sauce. Did they still have any ground beef in the freezer? She began collecting ingredients while the boys argued over Dr. Fell's sanity and guilt.

"And what would Katherine's motive be, anyway? She always has a reason for killing," Damon mused.

"Oh, you mean a better reason than 'you pissed me off'?" Alaric asked.

"Ouch. Low blow. I thought we were past that," Damon said.

"How do you get past someone killing you?"

"You got better!"

Hmm. No ground beef. Someone should probably go to the store. Vegetarian it was. Elena dumped her ingredients on the counter and began crushing cloves of garlic with a satisfying _smack _of her knife. The boys turned towards her, seeming to notice her for the first time since their argument began.

"What are you doing?" Damon asked.

"Making lasagna," Elena answered, giving the next clove a solid _thwack. _

"You say that like it's the most natural thing in the world," Ric said.

"It is. Someone died. So I'm making a casserole," Elena explained. "Or did you two get so wrapped up in fighting that you forgot that Caroline lost her dad?" Caroline had kept Elena and Jeremy fed for weeks after their parents had died. Chicken casserole. Tuna noodle casserole. Hash brown casserole. After Jenna's death, it had been a constant stream of baked goods, banana bread and cupcakes and cookies left on the doorstep or foisted on Elena with the explanation that Caroline had just made too many. Even though Caroline didn't technically need to eat anymore, lasagna was the absolute least Elena could do for her friend right now.

Damon and Ric exchanged a look. Ric sighed. "I'm going to go talk to Meredith. Try to figure this shit out," he said.

"She could still be dangerous, Ric. Don't let her get you alone," Elena said. He nodded. A moment later, they heard his car retreat down the driveway.

Damon selected a knife and reached for an onion, beginning to dismantle it with sure strokes. They worked in silence, assembling the lasagna layer by layer. Elena didn't speak until they'd put the cheesy concoction into the oven. "When were you going to tell me about the prints?"

"I thought you had enough on your plate last night, Elena. And since I was pretty sure you hadn't killed anyone—and Liz was, too—I didn't think it mattered much," he said, dumping the cutting boards into the sink.

"It doesn't, I guess. It's just...I can't escape her. She _is _me. I was stupid to think I could ever really get away from her." She indicated her shoulder vaguely.

"Hey. Hey. Let's not start that again," Damon said. "You _look _like Katherine; you _are_ _not_ Katherine." He wiped his hands on a towel, crossing back over to her. "Katherine never would have walked into that mansion all by herself. Katherine wouldn't have threatened to die for anyone, least of all me." He smiled. "Katherine definitely wouldn't have left a teddy bear to watch over me so I wouldn't be alone when I woke up this morning. Nice touch, by the way." One arm snaked around her waist. "You aren't her. Never have been and never will be." He rested his chin atop her head. "We may want to consider burning your prints off, though. As a precaution."

She laughed. How was it that he always knew just what would make her feel better? She loved Damon. Could Katherine do that, really love someone more than she loved herself? Elena wasn't so sure. "Not quite yet. Let's see what she's up to first, then we can take drastic measures."

They finished cleaning the kitchen while the lasagna baked. Elena was headed out the door with the hot dish when she noticed a note card on the doormat. She frowned, turning back towards the house.

"What is it? Did you forget something?" Damon asked curiously.

"No," Elena said, pulling the thick paper from its creamy velum envelope. "It's an invitation. From Klaus."


	30. Screamed

_Thanks to Nymphadora for helping me immensely with this chapter. You should thank her, too, since she talked me out of a really lousy idea. Thank her by reading one of her amazing stories—my favorite is "Ghosts of Christmas," but they're all great. And as a reminder, no chapter on Thursday, but I'll be back again on Friday. Promise._

* * *

><p>"Why are you still talking about this? We're not going," Damon said as he parked in front of Caroline's house.<p>

"We can't not go, Damon," Elena said for the thousandth time. They hadn't stopped bickering since they'd read the invitation. As usual, Damon's first response was to get the hell out of town (He was pushing Italy this time. "C'mon, you'd love Milan: Fashion, old shit, and all the pizza you can eat," he'd coaxed), but they both knew that wasn't an option. "What do you think is gonna happen if we say no? Klaus just shrugs and orders a couple fewer canapes? Or Klaus takes it personally and decides to remove your spine?"

"I can't believe he's able to do anything. They were _killing _him, Elena," Damon said.

"No, they were hurting him. He can't be killed," Elena said wearily. The invitation finally cleared up the mystery of the coffin. His mother, of all people. How that was even possible when she wasn't a vampire, Elena didn't know. But apparently she had the whole family singing "Kumbaya," and Klaus was so happy to have the whole Original family back together, he had to throw a ball to celebrate.

"That family manages to screw up everything," Damon said. "I mean, couldn't they have thrown him in a volcano or something? Let's see him survive _that_."

Elena rolled her eyes. "I can't believe you can complain about someone else's family without irony." She climbed out of the car, lasagna in hand. "I'm going. Whether you want to go or not is your business. But we have to know what's going on. Maybe the other brothers and the mom can be allies. We won't know if we don't go," Elena said as she started up the walk.

Damon fell into step beside her. "Elena, if this is all just an elaborate ploy to get me into a tux, all you had to do was ask," he started to tease, but gave up, face turning serious. "I don't trust them around you," he said.

"I trust them even less around _you,_" Elena said. "They aren't going to kill me, so let's not have that argument again. We can't just sit in the dark and hope they just magically go away. They aren't going to."

Damon sighed. "Fine, but I'm bringing backup."

"I don't think it's a good idea to bring Ric as your backup," Elena said.

"Hardly. He can barely see straight anymore. We'll bring the only person I trust to have my back." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Stefan."

"That isn't funny, Damon," she said.

"It really, really isn't," he said unhappily. "But you said it yourself: The person who's really at risk at this shindig isn't you at all. It's me. And the one thing Stefan has proven, time and time again, is that he won't let me die. No matter how badly I deserve it or how badly it fucks up our master plan. So we'll count on him to play to type."

Elena didn't like any part of that plan. She didn't know that she'd ever be able to forgive Stefan for what he'd done on the bridge, for making her relive that terrible night, for using her screams to fuel his insane revenge, for his cold callousness as he'd told her Damon wasn't worth dying for. She didn't trust him to have _her _back anymore, that was for damn sure. But Damon was right. This wasn't about her. She wasn't the one who needed to be protected from Klaus. "Since when do you care if you're at risk?" she asked.

"Since I found something worth living for," he said. He waited a beat to let his words sink in. "Besides, the invitation said there'd be dancing. You know how I feel about dancing," he said with a smirk.

Elena grinned, and the front door creaked open. Caroline stood there, face pale and streaked with tears. A piece of thick, creamy paper was crumpled in her hands. "So you got one, too?" she asked in a trembling voice. Then she burst into tears.

They sat at the kitchen table for hours. Caroline ate plate after plate of lasagna; Elena mostly just listened. Caroline told her of Bill's final hours, how she wanted so badly to save him, but he'd just smiled and told her that wasn't the way of the world, that parents shouldn't outlive their children. How he'd told her how proud he was of her, even after she'd become what he hated most. How she'd held his hand as he died. How she missed him already, how she hated him for not living, for not staying with her, but how she knew he wouldn't have been happy as a vampire. Elena murmured words of comfort. Even Damon managed to look sympathetic, though he slipped out of the room as soon as he could to talk to Liz. Elena knew all the emotion bothered him, but Caroline needed her now.

"And now I have to go to thisball because of Klaus' stupid Cinderella fetish," Caroline said, pushing her empty plate away.

"You don't have to go," Elena said. "I mean, he barely knows you."

Caroline toyed with her fork. "Um. We did kind of talk. A little. The night he cured me, after Tyler bit me."

Elena's eyebrows raised in surprise. "What did you talk to Klaus about?"

"You know, just stuff. My birthday. What it means to live forever. All the things I could do and see and have, if I wanted," Caroline said awkwardly, not meeting her friend's gaze.

"Caroline, are you blushing? About _Klaus?_" Elena said. But now that she thought about it, Damon had mentioned how excited she'd been after her recovery from the bite, how she'd been talking about college and studying in Paris. Elena hadn't thought much of it at the time, thought that maybe their funeral had had its desired effect, but...

"No! It's just...he was really nice to me. I know, I _know, _Elena. It's totally screwed up. But he made me see things differently. He made me see all the good things about being seventeen forever, not just the awful filler year stuff," she said. "And I'm going to the ball." She wiped her eyes determinedly, and Elena didn't bother to argue about how insane everything she'd just said was. Once Caroline made up her mind, it was a done deal. And maybe a little distraction wouldn't be so bad for her right now. "What are you going to wear? We don't have much time to decide. I was thinking, for you—curls."

* * *

><p>Elena knew from the first moment that it was a dream. She remembered coming back from Caroline's late, she remembered sleep-walking her way through homework before falling into bed. She knew she was sound asleep, safe in her room while Ric and Damon chatted in the living room below. But that didn't make any of it less real. She was lost in a maze of black curtains, tearing her way through the fabric, lost and disoriented. But there were voices.<p>

"It's always been you. You know that, don't you?" Damon panted. "Always. I've been waiting my whole life for you to choose me."

"I love you, Damon. _This _Damon, not that weak little fop you used to be. But now you're ready," Katherine breathed. "Now you deserve me." She laughed, that high, kittenish trill.

Elena tore through another curtain, expecting to find only more of that endless maze, but she stumbled upon a huge bed, hung in black. Katherine straddled Damon, both of them naked and beautiful. They turned to her with eyes full of blood.

"Ahh, there she is. My little shadow," Katherine laughed. "Did you really think you could replace me with _her?_"

"Never. But she was the closest I could get to you," Damon said, gazing up at Katherine with worshipful eyes.

"Elena, you have to let him go. We have to let him go," a new voice said from behind her. Elena whirled, and Stefan was there. Not the Stefan who laughed as she screamed, not the Stefan who told her Jeremy's life wasn't his problem, but the gentle boy who'd told her she wouldn't be sad forever, who took her in his arms and made the whole world disappear.

"But I love him," Elena said.

"And that's the saddest part of all," Damon mocked. She turned, and he was there, close and ferocious and feral, every inch the dark god. "That you thought that I would ever love someone like you. You're a child, Elena, a pathetic little nothing. But you reminded me of the one thing I really love." He stroked her hair as he loved to do, long fingers tangling in the strands. "But in the end, you were just something to do, Elena. Now that I have what I really want, there's no need to play this game any more." His hand tightened around her hair and he jerked her head down brutally. She caught a flash of wicked, curved fangs.

There was no time to cry, no time to scream or run. The pain was searing as he tore into her shoulder, ripping her flesh at the heart of the healing X she'd carved into her own body, sapping her blood and her strength and her will away with every pulse of her heart.

Katherine's laughter was still ringing in her ears when Elena awoke, screaming.


	31. Betrayed

The first time they'd danced together, Elena had realized she could really love Damon. This time, she realized she would have to betray him.

Every beat of the music was painful, the song's words of love a mockery. But it was only because she loved him with such frightening intensity that she was willing to risk his wrath now. As long as Klaus lived, Damon would never be safe. They could never truly be together, not when Klaus could use the threat of Damon's death to get Elena to do whatever he wanted. And Esther was their only hope to kill that monster. But Damon, with the best of intentions, wouldn't let her anywhere near the witch. Not alone.

"In case it isn't obvious, you look stunning," he said. He was stunning himself, though it had little to do with the immaculate tuxedo he wore. It had everything to do with the happiness in his eyes as he twirled her, the relaxed smile that curved his lips as they moved together. He was still wary, of course; Damon never truly let his guard down. But if there was one thing Damon loved, it was dancing with a pretty girl. With her. "Still wish you'd tell me what you dreamed. I can still see it there, behind your eyes," he said gently.

"It's nothing. I told you, I don't remember it," she lied. Every awful second of the dream was branded into her memory with Technicolor clarity: The look of complete devotion as he'd gazed up at Katherine, Stefan's sweet familiarity and nearness, the agonizing pain as Damon devoured her blood, a pain dwarfed by the crushing brutality of his words.

Seconds after she'd awoken from the nightmare, he'd been there, cradling her in his arms, pulling her away from sheets sodden with her own blood. In her thrashing, she'd reopened the wound on her shoulder. In that moment, she couldn't bear his kindness. All she could see was fangs, all she could hear was Katherine's mocking laughter. She fled, locking herself into the bathroom, listening to his pacing outside the door as he begged her to tell him what was wrong. But she couldn't. She'd emerged hours later, explaining with downcast eyes that she was just tired, that she was fine, that she shouldn't have worried him. And though she knew it pained him, he didn't pry any further. He chose to trust her.

They'd spent the day deep in preparations for the ball: Getting her mother's dress out of storage, enlisting Caroline for help with her hair. She could've killed Caroline when she saw the mass of curls her friend saddled her with. Now if she ever wanted to think of Katherine, all she had to do was look in the mirror. But mostly, Elena kept herself so busy, she even managed to convince Damon that she was fine. Everything was fine.

He pursed his lips. "You know, dreams are tricky things. Especially when you're running around with vampires," Damon observed.

"What are you saying?" she asked.

"Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. Don't know what you dreamed. Just remember, things aren't always what they seem," he said as he whirled her away and into Stefan's waiting arms.

Elena tried to remember the last time Stefan had held her, the last time she knew he loved her. She couldn't remember. But here he was, so close, his arms strong and sure, his gaze cool and disinterested. He could have been dancing with a cousin he didn't particularly like.

"I didn't think you'd come," Elena said. "Dances aren't really your thing."

He shrugged. "Didn't have any other plans. Figured I'd better see what moronic scheme Damon could come up with this time. Those are usually amusing, if nothing else."

For a moment, she simply danced, focusing on the feel of his hand at the small of her back, the other couples whirling around them in a blur of color and whispering fabric. Would he help her? "He's the only person I trust to have my back," Damon had said. Could she really ask Stefan to betray that trust?

"I need your help," Elena said.

"Of course you do. What do you want?" he asked.

"Not here." She nodded to the door, and Stefan released her from his hold and led her towards the entrance. Elena glanced over her shoulder. Damon was partnered with Rebekah, smirking at her. Good. That would buy her some time before he came for her. She slipped into the cool Virginia night.

"So what is it, Elena? Need relationship advice? First piece of advice: You're dating a dick," Stefan said.

"Don't do that, Stefan. Not tonight. One Damon is enough, and he's better at one-liners than you are," Elena said.

"Insulting me is an interesting way to ask for my help," he said.

She swallowed hard. Here it was. This was the moment. If she said this, there was no going back. "I need you to distract Damon for me."

"Uh huh. And what secrets do you need to hide from your one true love?" Stefan asked, looking down at her, the very picture of studied disinterest.

Heat burned in her cheeks. "He won't let me get anywhere near Esther without him. And she won't see me unless I'm alone."

Stefan considered this. "And what do you think you'll learn from Esther, exactly?"

"I don't know," she confessed. "But if she wants to talk to me, I think she probably has a good reason. She might be able to help us."

"Or Damon might be right and she wants to kill you," Stefan pointed out.

"Or she might have be the key to killing Klaus. And isn't that the only thing you care about now? Revenge?"

He was silent, his eyes searching her face. He didn't seem to find what he was looking for. He gave a tight, tiny smile. "Yeah. You're right. It is. So tell me what you want me to do. He's watching you like a hawk, he's faster than I am, and he's got that pesky vampire hearing. How do you intend to distract him?"

Elena balled her hand into a fist at her side. "I want you to take him out."

"Tell me what you want me to do, Elena," Stefan repeated. "I want to hear you say it."

Elena hated Stefan. Hated him for forcing her to put her monstrous plans into words when he knew exactly what she wanted, despised him for making her take a good, long look at exactly how she was betraying the man she loved. And she nearly lost her nerve, nearly couldn't let the words pass her lips. But she loved Damon enough to risk ruining everything. "I want you to break his neck."

And he did. Everything went according to plan. She lured Damon into the library. Stefan accosted him from behind. Damon's confused eyes met hers for just an instant before his neck snapped like green kindling and his face went slack and blank. For a mad moment, Elena wanted to abandon the plan, to wait by Damon's side until he awoke, to explain why she'd done it, to beg his forgiveness and forget Esther and Klaus and the whole damn world. Anything to make this all-consuming guilt fade away.

But Stefan looked at her, his eyes hard and glittering in the dim light. "You'd better hurry. He won't be out long." And she knew she'd gone too far now. The best way to earn his forgiveness was to finish what she'd started, to take Klaus out once and for all.

She knelt beside Damon's prone body, brushing a lock of dark hair from his forehead. "I'm sorry," she whispered. Then she squared her shoulders and did what she had to do.

* * *

><p>Elena hadn't thought it was possible to hate herself any more than she already did, but she kept finding new ways to surprise herself. The instant she'd given her blood to Esther, she regretted it. What did she really know about the witch's plan? Was it worth killing the entire Original family just to get to Klaus? What if Esther had her own agenda? The witch could use her blood to cast any spell, and Elena wouldn't have been able to stop her.<p>

She'd had a chance to thwart her, a chance to take Elijah's glass and dash it to the ground, to save him, at least, from whatever Esther had planned. Elijah had always been upstanding and fair with her, always kept his word to her even when he probably shouldn't have. Always...except the one time it mattered most. When he'd had to choose between his family or ridding the world of Klaus, he'd broken his word. And it was because of that single moment of weakness that Elena assured him that Esther had forgiven Klaus everything, that he had nothing to fear. It was because of that moment that Elena let him drink from the bitter cup.

"Elena," Damon said, approaching her, whole and alive again. Elena's heart sank. He wasn't furious. This was something far, far worse than rage. He was disappointed. "Did you get what you wanted?"

She couldn't tell him her doubts or her agony over what she'd done to him, to the Originals. So she lifted her chin, meeting his gaze evenly. "Actually, I did."

"Good. Tell me on the ride home; we're leaving," he said, grabbing her arm in a painfully tight grip. She winced, struggling to pull out of his grasp.

"Let _go _of me, Damon. You can't just drag me out of here," she said, jerking her arm free.

His eyes widened. "You're going to lecture me about free will and ownership when you just had my brother break my neck?"

"Look, I'm sorry I had to cut you out of the plan, but you didn't leave me much choice," Elena started, but the excuses sounded hollow even to her own ears.

"There shouldn't have _been_ a plan. You took a stupid risk, and you're lucky you didn't get yourself killed," Damon spat.

"Do you think I like going behind your back? I don't. But you wouldn't listen, and if I had told you what I was going to do, you would've tried to play the hero and you would've ruined everything. I didn't know what else to do, so I called in Stefan," she said. Damon could pretend to be the anti-hero as much as he liked, pretend not to care about anything. But every time their plans went to hell, it was because he took matters into his own hands and tried to save her. But there were more important forces at play than just the two of them.

"Right. Trusting my brother who tried to kill you less than a week ago instead of me. That makes no fucking sense, Elena," he said.

"Now you're mad at me for bringing Stefan in? You're the one who wanted him here in the first place," she returned.

"And once again, trusting Stefan bit me in the ass. He doesn't give a shit about whether you live or die anymore, Elena, don't you see that? One of these days you're going to have to tell me why you're so hell-bent on dying," he said, nostrils flaring. There was the rage she'd been expecting.

"And one of these days you're going to have to realize that I'm not a child. I can make my own decisions," she said.

"Whatever happened to being _partners_, Elena? Imagine if the tables were turned and I compelled you to get you out of the way so I could do something stupid and self-destructive. What would you have done then?" His voice was raised, his eyes wide. Whatever fragile control Damon had managed to build was crumbling fast.

"I would have hated you," she said. He was absolutely right. What she had done was inexcusable. Here she was, once again, doing the wrong thing for the right reasons.

"Points for honesty," he sneered.

"Hey, have you guys seen Matt?" Caroline asked.

Damon's eyes widened slightly, and he turned to go. But he stopped himself, turning back to Elena. His words were cold as ice: "You know, I was wrong. You're _exactly_ like Katherine." And he stalked away.


	32. Broken

"Where's Damon? Thought he'd want to make sure you made it home safely," Stefan said as they climbed the porch steps.

"I don't know. He just ran off, after..." After he snapped Kol's neck. After he drew the ire of every Original. After he erased any goodwill Esther might have felt towards him. And it was her fault. Every bit of it. If he hadn't been so angry at her, he never would have beaten Kol to a bloody pulp, never would have stared at her with his eyes alight with that feral, manic blood lust, an expression she hadn't seen from him in so long, except in her dreams.

And as much as she tried to be angry with him, she couldn't be. She saved all her anger for herself. He was right about everything. She was every bit as bad as Katherine. All the scars, all the _feelings _in the world couldn't change that simple truth. She loved two Salvatores. She used them. Maybe she was even worse than Katherine. At least Katherine hadn't loved Damon, had just been using him in her twisted games and perverse fantasies. But Elena had begged Stefan to break the neck of the person she loved most. It didn't matter what her intentions were. Damon had been right about that, too: If the tables were turned, she never would have forgiven him. How could she ask him to be better than she was? Elena knew she should search for him, that she should see if he could ever possibly accept her apology, but she couldn't face him right now. Just couldn't. Another failing.

"Yeah, he managed to make quite a scene. So much for playing nicely with the neighbors," Stefan said, folding his arms across his chest.

"Don't. Don't you _dare_, Stefan," she gritted, rage flooding through her body. After everything Damon had done for his ungrateful little brother, after everything Damon had sacrificed to bring Stefan back from his self-destructive spiral, Stefan had no right to criticize Damon's outburst. At least Damon let himself feel _something._

"Oh, I'm sorry. Because he's your boyfriend now, he's perfect?" Stefan asked.

"No. But he's trying, Stefan, which is more than I can say for you," she said with weary disgust. She wanted to sleep for a thousand years; she never wanted to sleep again.

"You know, living up to your expectations is just exhausting," he said. He started to turn, to walk off into the night. But she seized his shoulder.

"How can you do that?" she asked. "Pretend not to feel anything?"

Stefan stopped, though he refused to face her. "Don't, Elena," he whispered.

"I know it's a lie, Stefan. I know the switch is a lie, I know that you're still in there, somewhere—somewhere so deep you don't even want to admit it to yourself, I know somewhere you're still-"

He turned toward her, his profile illuminated in the moonlight. "I'm still what?"

"That you're still _good,_" Elena said. She took his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her. She couldn't bear to lose him. She owed it to him to try to draw him out, to remind him of who he had been, just as she'd owed the same to Damon when he was a raw and bloody mass of hurt and resentment. She couldn't let Stefan take his same painful, lonely path.

Stefan grasped her hands in his, pulling them away from his face. "I can't, Elena."

"Yes, you can. It's hard, Stefan, it's so hard, but I know you can."

Another glimpse of the boy she'd loved, of those melting eyes and gentle hands and sweet mouth. Then his gaze grew hard and he thrust her hands away. "I can't let myself feel. When I do, all I feel is pain." He pulled away from her and walked into the night.

She stared after him, unable to move or cry. Everything she touched fell apart. Worse than Katherine. So much worse than Katherine.

There was a harsh bark of laughter, a sound devoid of mirth. Damon dissolved out of the darkness.

"Can't believe I came here to apologize. Here I was, feeling guilty about hurting your _feelings, _and all you can worry about is Stefan," Damon said incredulously. "So is that the game, Elena? You just fall for whatever Salvatore happens to be sadder on any given day? Then you fix us and move on to the next poor schmuck? Who's next, Klaus?"

Her mind was blank. Utterly blank. "That isn't—this isn't what it looks like," Elena started feebly.

"It's not? Because it sure fucking _looks _like you're running right back to Stefan," he snarled.

"Damon, I love _you,_" she said desperately.

"No. You don't get to use those words, Elena. Not right now. I'm not sure you even know what they mean." Before she could blink, he was behind her, one forearm pressing against her neck, the other clamped around her waist, strong and inflexible as iron bands. He hissed into her ear. "Is this what you want, Elena? You want me broken and bleeding, teetering just on the edge of _crazy _so you can save me?" He thrust his hips against her, hard and terrifying. "Because I can do that. I can hurt you like he does, if that's what you want. I can make you just as broken as we are- as _I _am."

There were tears on her cheeks, though she didn't remember crying. "Let me go. You don't know what you're doing."

"That's where you're wrong. I know exactly what I'm doing—just like you did when you asked Stefan to break my neck, just like you did when you begged him to _feel._" He pulled her closer, the strength of his grasp forcing her to stand on tiptoe. She gasped for breath. "Do you know what he said to me? He said that this was all my fault, because I feel too much. Because I love you too much, I'm a _liability_." Another mirthless laugh. "How ironic is that?

"It's not your fault. It's all my fault, every part of it," she whispered. And in that moment, she could answer his question. Why she was so hell-bent on dying. Because every bad thing that had ever happened in her life had been because of her. All her fault. From her parents to Jenna and John to Jeremy and now Damon and Stefan's shattered lives, it was all because of her. And maybe if she could just be brave enough to sacrifice herself for them, she could atone. But they wouldn't let her, they forced her to endure and she couldn't bear the load any more. And now Damon saw her as she really was, with all her failings and flaws. And he hated her. And she deserved that, too.

His breath was cold against her neck. "I never had a choice, Elena. I could never help but love you."

Elena reached up with one hand, grasping the hair at the back of his neck. "Do it."

"Do _what_, Elena? Say it," he commanded, but she could already feel the points of his teeth lengthening against the delicate flesh of her neck, just next to where the blood pulsed.

"Break me," she whispered.

The pain was immediate and exquisite, a searing agony that faded into a dull throb that spread throughout her whole body, made her head swim and her knees buckle. She cried out, but the sound seemed to belong to someone else. All that existed was the pain, the pain and his lips, his tongue, his teeth, his touch, _him. _He clutched her to him like a rag doll as the world spun and then went black.


	33. Deserved

Sound returned first, nudging her out of the blackness. It sounded like someone was praying or chanting, one word repeated over and over again. The words were distant and muffled, as if she were underwater.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. _Fuck. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck."

Feeling returned next, and she immediately wished it hadn't. Everything ached, from the soles of her feet to the very tips of her hair. Deeper, more penetrating pain flared at her neck, her shoulder, her wrist, between her legs.

The chanting stopped. There was a faint growl, then something was dripping against her lips. "God _damn _it, Elena." Then she was being smothered, hard flesh and cold, thick liquid shoved against her mouth. She started to struggle, but her limbs were so heavy, it was like moving boulders. She managed to wrench her eyelids open, to raise her hands to press against the wrist that poured sweet blood down her throat.

She saw the last fleeting veins fading from Damon's cheeks, saw the near-panic in his eyes, the rivulet of blood on his chin. He pulled his wrist away and she coughed as the iron burned her throat. But the blood did its job, the pain receding into a manageable dullness, though it didn't disappear entirely. But she was glad for the pain; it grounded her, kept her rooted to this moment instead of slipping back into the tempting, comforting darkness.

Damon had her cradled in his lap like some grotesque pietà on the lawn, her legs wet with dew. The full skirt of her gown was hiked up to her waist, the bodice torn to shreds. She raised one unsteady hand to her neck and came away with fingers smeared with fresh blood, though the wounds had closed, leaving behind two tiny scabs

Memories returned in fragments. Dancing. The _crack _of a fractured neck. A look of betrayal. Bloody champagne. Blue eyes glowing with fierce, terrible joy. Green eyes brimming with unspoken agony. Hatred, such intense, burning hatred. The most beautiful, horrible pain all wrapped up in pleasure until she couldn't tell where one began and one ended. Then nothing.

"Elena, say something," Damon said, lightly slapping her cheek. She lay limp and languid in his arms, staring up at the sky. So many stars.

"Ow," she said.

"Not quite what I was looking for." He brought his wrist to his mouth again, but she shook her head.

"No," she murmured.

"I went too far, Elena. _Fuck,_" he said, turning his face away.

"But you're still here," she said.

"What? Of course I'm still here," he said. He leaned over her, blocking her view of the stars. She closed her eyes.

"But you hate me," she said.

"Christ, Elena, don't be an idiot," he said sharply, smoothing hair back from her face. "Do you know how much easier it would be if I did hate you? How many times I've tried to do just that? I don't _like _you very much tonight, but I still love you."

"You should hate me. I deserve it, after what I did to you," she said.

"Since when does love have anything to do with what we deserve? If it did, you never even would have considered being with me." He rose, holding her close as he carried her into the house. "I'm _pissed _at you, but I'll get over it. Just like you did all the times I fucked up on a grand scale," he said as he laid her on the couch, kneeling beside her. "Right now I think I'm even madder at myself, though." He took her chin in his hand, turning her head to the side so he could look at the tiny marks on her neck. "I could have killed you."

"I told you to do it. I begged you," Elena said. And why? Elena couldn't answer the question. "Break me." What did that even mean? Why had she needed so desperately to take that pain on for herself, to let Damon take a literal pound of flesh?

"Tell me why you begged me to, Elena. Tell me why you insisted on walking into a lion's den tonight. Twice," he ordered, his hand tightening on her arm.

How could she tell him of the crushing guilt that tinged every aspect of her life? How could she tell him that she'd wanted to put that weight aside, to surrender herself to him, even if that meant letting him hurt her, destroy her, devour her? "I don't think I can explain it," she said haltingly. "Not in a way you'd understand."

"Try me."

"You won't let me be as brave for you as you are for me. You keep forcing me to keep carrying on, and I couldn't stand it. And you were so angry with me. So angry. And I thought maybe letting you...do that would help you not hate me. And that maybe it would let me forget for a minute." She managed a wane, pale smile. "I guess it did that part, at least."

He was silent, staring up at her, his face unreadable. "You really are a martyr. You and Stefan should have a competition sometime. My money's on you for the win, though"

She shook her head, staring down at her lap. "You were right. I'm just like Katherine. She doesn't deserve saving, and neither do I."

Damon pulled her from the couch and into his lap, seizing her face in his hands. "The Katherine thing was a low blow. I wanted to hurt you. Not one of my more flattering character traits, but there it is," he said with a little wince. "And it was a lie. Yeah, you screwed up. Sometimes you do stupid, stupid things. Sometimes you think the world revolves around you. Sometimes you're a real bitch." He smiled, fingertips brushing her cheek. "But none of that matters when you put it all up against your kindness and your compassion and your courage and your freakish ability to forgive." He gave her a gentle shake. "I told you, your greatest burden is to endure. And you've got to do it, Elena. Because I can't even imagine a world without you in it."

Neither one of them would ever be as good as the other deserved. Neither one of them would ever be perfect. But their broken edges fit together and made them both whole. She couldn't possibly have loved him more. "I did it for us; I wanted to get rid of Klaus. For _us_." Tears spilled down her cheeks.

He pulled her close, and she buried her face into his shoulder. He smelled of blood and grass. "I know, Elena. You tried to do the right thing. You just fucked up on the execution." He ran his fingers through her hair. "Not that I'd know anything about that."

She gave a little hiccuping laugh against him. "Nothing happened with Stefan. I promise."

There was a hesitation. There wasn't an immediate acknowledgment that he knew that, that she had just been trying to help Stefan. She pulled back to look at him, her face stained with tears. "I'm not in love with him. I don't want him back."

"But you still love him," he said quietly. In his eyes, she saw the terrible echoes of the past, of Stefan as the shining golden boy, the one who was chosen again and again.

"We'll always all three love each other, isn't that what you said? I owe him. I want him to be happy," she said.

"Me too, Elena. But seeing you with him, seeing you _forgive _him, after everything he's put you through...it was hard to see, especially when you two were so cozy at the mansion" he said.

Elena laced her fingers through his. "Let's make a deal. _I _am going to try to remember that you protect me because you love me. I'm going to try to remember that we can work things out much better together than by either of us going all vigilante. And _you _are going to try to believe that I chose you. That you are the man I want to spend forever with, however long or short that is. And that sometimes, I'm trying to protect you, too. Because I love you." She kissed him softly, tasting her blood on his lips. "And both of us will try not to do stupid, reckless things. Deal?"

He smiled, some of that hurt bleeding from him, evaporating into the air between them. "I'm in."


	34. Planned

_Whew. It's been a couple of intense, tough chapters, but thanks for sticking with me. All of your reviews, messages, subscriptions and alerts help keep me powering through even when I just want to chuck my laptop across the room and give up, so thank you. How about some fluffiness? Let's have some fluffiness. Please enjoy._

* * *

><p>"...and I let Elijah drink it. Didn't say a word, just smiled. Now he's going to die. Because of me," Elena finished. She pushed the plate with her half-eaten sandwich away, her appetite gone.<p>

"Really? You're feeling bad about killing an Original now? The guy who double-crossed us, screwed us over, and tried to kill you? Repeatedly?" Damon asked, pushing the plate back toward her. They sat in the kitchen, stripped of their ballroom finery. Elena had opted for PJs, while Damon had stolen an old Mystic Falls Timberwolves T-shirt from Jeremy's room. It was a little tight in the shoulders, but it would do.

"He tried to save me. He _did_ save me, more than once. And if it wasn't for him, Klaus would probably still be torturing you," she said. She knew it was irrational to want to save Elijah, that she was just a pawn in his grander game. But with one glaring exception, Elijah had always treated her with respect and courtesy, and had honored his word. And Kol and Finn hadn't done her any harm, and Rebekah, while a psychopath, was just a sad, lonely girl. Was it worth sacrificing all four lives just to get to Klaus?

Damon stole a chip from her plate, popping it into his mouth. "Yeah, I mean, he's a pretty okay guy. A little uptight, a little too fond of ripping hearts out, but at the end of the day, he's an Original. And I can't wait to dance on his grave—on _all _their graves_._"

"Even Rebekah's?" Elena asked. She hadn't intended to ask the question; it just popped out. But seeing them dancing together tonight had awakened a memory of them laughing around a campfire, their fingers sticky with marshmallows.

"What, you think because I managed to make it through a dance with Rebekah that I care whether she lives or dies? Please, Elena, give me a little more credit than that. She's _incredibly _irritating. And I don't do blondes, as a rule," he said with a smirk. "Now eat your damn sandwich."

"I'm not hungry," Elena said, looking at the turkey sandwich with distaste.

"We went over this," he said, a note of warning in his voice. "You can eat the sandwich or you can drink a nice, refreshing glass of vampire blood. Your choice. Personally, I vote for the blood." He stood, rummaging in one of the cabinets as if he owned the place. He produced two vitamins, plunking them down next to her plate. "And these. Anemia isn't a good look."

Elena stuck her tongue out at him, but dutifully took a bite of the sandwich. "Is this what you used to do with Andie? After you fed from her?" _And Caroline,_ a tiny voice reminded her.

Damon winced slightly as he resumed his seat. "Jealousy isn't a good look, either. Especially since Andie's dead." He sighed. "This is what I do with any person I feed on who I like. Iron, vitamins, and bed rest. So yes, I did this with Andie."

She was silent for a moment, nibbling on the crust. "You really cared for her, didn't you?"

"Yeah. And I don't want to talk about her. She's just another reminder of what a colossal dick my brother is. How about we talk about one of _your _exes, Elena? Let's talk about good old Matty," Damon said.

"What about him?" Elena asked curiously.

Damon quirked an eyebrow. "You don't know? No, I guess you wouldn't. Why do you think I went after Kol tonight? Did you think being pissed off at you suddenly made me suicidal?"

Elena blinked. "I...hadn't really had time to think about it, to tell you the truth." And recklessly pissing off Originals wasn't exactly out of character for Damon. At least not the old Damon, but everything was changing now. It was hard to keep up sometimes. "But what does any of that have to do with Matt?"

"Well, with Rebekah being a cheerleader and all, maybe Kol's decided to go after Matt's spot on the football team. He was crushing Matt's hand, and looked like he was about to do a lot worse," Damon said, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. "So I helped Kol over the balcony."

Elena didn't answer right away. She reached for one of the vitamins Damon had shoved at her. Gummy vitamins, Jeremy's favorite. "I didn't know, Damon. I didn't know that's what you were doing," she said. She'd assumed the worst. Again. That he'd lost his temper and responded as he usually did, by snapping a few necks. She'd had no idea he was trying to save Matt.

"Yeah, well, I couldn't leave the Timberwolves without their star quarterback, now could I?" Damon said, indicating the cartoon wolf on his shirt with a bitter little smile.

"Don't do that. Don't pretend that it doesn't matter," Elena said. "You did a good thing." And he hadn't done it for her. Even when he'd been so _furious _with her, he'd saved Matt. Not because he liked Matt or because he loved her, but because it was the right thing to do. Even a few months ago, such an action would have been unthinkable. She tore the head off the gummy vitamin. "Poor Matt. He shouldn't be mixed up in all this...supernatural crap, anyway."

"Eat that, don't play with it," Damon said, gesturing to the decapitated vitamin in her hand. "I can send Donovan away too, you know. Not like he's got anything going for him here."

Elena shook her head. "No. With Jeremy, there wasn't any choice, but Matt can make his own decisions." Hypocritical? Yes. But Matt had always been older than his years, had been forced to grow up so fast. He knew the risks. She ate the vitamin. "Maybe he'll get a football scholarship. If he can just last the year, he might be able to get away."

Damon shrugged. "Maybe. So, now that the Fanged Five are all linked together, what happens now? What's phase two of the witch's plan?"

Elena frowned. "I...I don't know."

Damon's eyebrows flew up in surprise. "What do you mean, you don't _know?"_

"Esther said linking them was the first phase of her plan, but she didn't mention phase two," she admitted.

Damon covered his eyes with one hand, slumping down in his chair. "Let me make sure I've got this: You gave your blood to an unspeakably old and powerful witch without asking for details of her plan to kill her own children?"

Her heart sank. That was exactly what she'd done. "She seemed honest, Damon. You know how witches are with the balance of nature. She said she needed to repair the balance, fix the abomination-"

"And you wonder why I don't like it when you make the plans, Elena," he said.

"Oh, because yours always turn out so well?" she asked hotly. He was right, but he was hardly the mastermind he made himself out to be.

"Just shut up and take your other vitamin. There's nothing we can do now," he said wearily.

Elena took careful aim and threw the vitamin directly at his head. It bounced off his forehead, and Damon's eyes flew open. "Did you just throw a _gummy bear _ at me?" he asked incredulously.

"Yep," she said. "What're you gonna do about it?"

Damon grinned. "I have a plan..."

* * *

><p>His lips were like feathers against her skin, delicate and gentle as he kissed a path ever lower, brushing the hollow of her throat, between her breasts, across the flat plains of her stomach, ever lower. Her flesh leapt under his touch, her back arching towards him, craving more contact, more of <em>him. <em>

Elena gasped, her fingernails digging crescents into his back as he reversed course, kissing his way back up until his lips met hers again. Their bodies joined together and he opened his eyes. Green eyes.

"No," Elena whispered. "This is wrong. All wrong."

"You know that isn't true," Stefan murmured, capturing her lips with his again, kissing her in that way that was so familiar yet so strange. "I know you still love me. Just like I still love you." Their bodies moved together and she cried out. "You'll always be mine, Elena."

She awoke with a start, tangled in Damon's arms. He blinked sleepily down at her. "What's wrong?"


	35. Dreamed

Elena was awake, but nothing seemed quite real. She could have mistaken Damon's strong arms for Stefan's gentler touch; his intensely masculine scent for Stefan's lighter, sweeter aroma. But his eyes were blue. They were blue. This was right. This was true. She took a deep, shuddering breath.

Damon rubbed her back. "It was a dream, Elena. A hell of a nightmare, but just a dream," he reassured her.

"Yeah, a nightmare," she said, pushing her sweat-matted hair from her face with trembling hands. That wasn't the right word; she hadn't been _afraid_. There had simply been that overwhelming sense of wrongness. Yes, she loved Stefan, but more like a stupid, wayward brother she had to look out for, not like a lover. It had been months since she'd dreamed of him like this, and it hadn't happened since she and Damon had cemented their relationship. "I'm fine, Damon. It's nothing."

"Horseshit," he said, flicking the bedside lamp on. Elena was relieved as light flooded the room, driving the shadows away. It helped her focus on what was real. Blue eyes. "I let you get away with that yesterday; it's not happening again. Now tell me what it was."

How could she tell him? After tonight, after what he'd seen on the porch? She knew that deep down, some part of him would always suspect that her heart belonged to Stefan. If there was one constant in Damon's life, it was that he was always chosen last.

"It's just a dream; it doesn't mean anything. That stupid sandwich you made me eat probably gave me indigestion," she said. "Just turn the light out and let's go back to sleep."

"'More of gravy than of grave'? I don't think so. Humor me," he said in a tone that brooked no argument. She sighed. She'd start at the beginning; even though the dream of Katherine had been more horrifying, it was easier to recount now.

"Last night, I was lost. I heard you and Katherine talking." Her cheeks colored at the memory. "You said it was always her, that you'd been waiting for her to choose you. And I found you, and you two were...you were-"

Surprisingly, Damon didn't smirk at her discomfort, didn't tease her. He just gave a little nod. "Got it. Go on."

"Then Stefan was there, and he said that we had to let you go. And he looked like his old self, Damon, like he did before Klaus." She sighed. "And then you...said some other stuff and then you bit me," she concluded. She couldn't repeat the words he'd spoken in the dream, those hateful words that played on her deepest, darkest fears.

Damon's face was grim. "And tonight?" She hesitated, and his hand tightened on her shoulder. "Please."

This was going to set off a firestorm, and she couldn't bear it. He would accuse her of still being in love with Stefan, of her subconscious telling her what she really wanted. But even in the dream, even when his hands and his lips and his body against hers had felt so familiar and so good, every cell of her being had known that it wasn't right. Not anymore. "I was with Stefan."

"_With_ Stefan?" he asked significantly. She nodded, staring down at the blankets, unable to meet his gaze. "Look at me." She didn't respond. "_Look _at me, Elena," he demanded.

Slowly, she lifted her eyes to meet his. There he was at his most raw, his most unmasked; no humor, no artifice, no facade. Just Damon. "You have nothing to feel sorry or guilty about. Nothing. But this is important, so I want you to think very carefully. Was there anything unusual about the dreams?"

Something deep within her relaxed. He understood. It wasn't a betrayal, it was just a dream...or was it? He certainly seemed to be taking the nightmares seriously. But now that he mentioned it, something about the dreams had been too bright, too crisp around the edges. Elena was no stranger to nightmares; they visited her most nights, taunting her with choking water, flickering flames, the faces of the dead. But not like this. "They were _so _real." She paused, brow furrowing in thought. "I've only ever had one dream like it before-"

"You were with Stefan. He started to take his shirt off and it wasn't him anymore—it was me," Damon interrupted.

Elena stared up at him. "How did you know that? I never told anyone about that dream." She pulled away from him, pushing herself upright, clutching the sheet to her chest. How had he known?

"I know because I made you dream it," Damon said.

A thousand thoughts raced through her mind all at once. Betrayal, hurt, relief, but mostly confusion. "What?"

"There's still a lot you don't know. Things vampires don't really advertise. The compulsion, well, that's hard to hide; it shows up in all the legends about us anyway." He sat up, but gave her space, eyeing her as if she might bolt at any moment. "But it goes deeper than that. It's called dream walking, and it lets us control every part of a dream—what you see, what you feel. Everything."

"And you did that? You did that to _me?_" Elena asked. She felt sick.

"Once. Only once," he said. He started to reach for her, to grasp her hand, but stopped himself. "When we first met. And I _hated _Stefan, and there he was, getting the girl again. The girl who looked just like Katherine," he sighed. "And I wanted to shake you up a little."

Elena forced herself to breathe. He'd compelled her, but that had been different. That hadn't been _right, _but he'd only made her forget, not made her see things that weren't there and feel things that weren't real. "What does that have to do with what's going on now?" Understanding dawned. "Oh, God. You think _Stefan-"_

But Damon shook his head. "No, it's not his style. He's never liked the vampire mind tricks, and his diet of fluffy bunnies meant he couldn't do most of them, anyway. And dream walking is _much _more difficult than compulsion—more variables to control. That's why when I influenced your dream, I only modified what you were already dreaming. It was much easier to just insert myself into a dream than to build one from scratch."

"I really don't want to hear the details," she said, her hand clenching on the bedclothes.

He blinked, seeming to shake himself from some memory. "Right. No, this isn't Stefan's MO. But Katherine is the best dream walker I've ever met," he said.

Of course. Katherine. It always came back to her, didn't it? Everything always would come back to her. She was the monster under their bed. Every insecurity, every nightmare, every terror could be laid at her feet. Elena climbed out of bed.

"What're you doing?" Damon asked.

"I'm going to kill Katherine," she replied calmly.

He was at her side in a second, pushing her gently back onto the bed. "Yeah, because _that'll _end well. Just take it easy, we'll pay her back." He frowned down at her. "Where's your bracelet?" She'd taken to wearing the simple woven band of vervain after Bonnie had taken the necklace for her magical experiments.

"I take it off at night, Damon. Because no one ever told me I had to worry about compulsion when my eyes are closed!" Her voice cracked in frustration. Nowhere was safe.

Damon sank onto the edge of the bed beside her, enveloping her in his arms. She stiffened, but he didn't budge. "I should have told you. But I didn't think Katherine would pay any attention to me once Stefan was available," he said, unable to keep the edge of bitterness from his voice. "I sure as hell didn't think she'd go after you. She kinda seems to have a soft spot for you."

"Then I'd hate to see what it looks like when she hates someone," Elena said, allowing herself to relax fractionally in his arms.

Damon reached for her nightstand, picking up the little friendship bracelet woven with vervain. "It's not pretty." He winced as the material touched his skin, but tied it tightly around her wrist. "At night, in the shower—_never_ take this off. Promise?"

Elena brushed her fingers across the band. "Do you promise me it was only once?"

He sighed. "Once. What do you want me to say? Haven't we already established that I was a fucked-up jackass back then? Even more than I am now. I wanted to hurt Stefan, so I hurt you. No, I haven't done it again. Don't intend to." Mischief flitted across his features. "Unless you wanted me to-"

"Not even funny, Damon," she said, but her smile gave her away.

"C'mon. It was, a little," he said, tugging her back onto the bed.

She curled up against him, his arms holding her close. This was right. This was real. This was what she wanted. Even with Damon's laundry list of sins and past transgressions, she wouldn't have traded this moment for anything. She nuzzled her head against his shoulder.

"Now we just have to figure out what to do about Katherine," she said.


	36. Confronted

"Sorry I've got to do this stupid Council shit," Damon said, slinging his jacket over his shoulder. He looked a little strange in his Timberwolves T-shirt, unbuttoned vest, and tuxedo slacks. "Carol's being a little needy, and I want to make sure she hasn't entirely defected to Team Klaus."

Elena shouldered her backpack with a little shrug. "Don't sweat it. I'll be at school all day anyway. We'll go Katherine hunting this afternoon," she said.

"Yeah, I'll see if I can't get Stefan to tell me where she's staying. He owes me one after last night," Damon said. He leaned down to kiss her goodbye, but stopped, lips hovering just over hers. "I told you I only sent you one tame little dream. What _other _dreams have you had about me all on your own?" He narrowed those blue eyes at her, and she smiled, cheeks growing hot under his gaze.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She kissed him.

"Hmm. I'll get to the bottom of this yet. Later, Ric," Damon said with a little wave as he let himself out.

Elena turned, surprised to see the teacher standing in the doorway leading to the kitchen. "Oh, hey. Didn't know you were there."

"Didn't figure you'd be making kissy faces if you did," Ric said wryly.

Elena gave a sheepish smile. "Sorry."

Alaric shook his head. "Not so worried about that. I'm more curious about why you lied to Damon."

"Huh? What're you talking about?" she asked nonchalantly, shifting her backpack to the other shoulder. Shit. How did he know?

"You have this little muscle that twitches in your jaw when you're lying," he said, indicating the area on his own face. "Jenna did the same thing." He fell silent for a beat, eyes wistful. "Plus, you don't typically take a crossbow, a dozen quarrels, three stakes and two vervain grenades to school with you." He folded his arms across his chest. "That seems a little excessive, even for Mystic Falls High. Where are you _really_ going?"

Damn. She'd thought he'd been sound asleep when she raided his weapons closet. She supposed that with everything that had happened to him lately, it made sense he was a little possessive of his slayer stash. "I'm going to see Katherine," she said with a defiant little toss of her head. "Maybe kill her."

Ric raised his eyebrows. "Any particular reason?"

Elena sighed. "Did you know vampires can get into your dreams?"

"You didn't?"

"No. Why doesn't anyone tell me these things?" Elena asked crossly.

"Sorry, figured you knew. So Katherine's been stalking your dreams, and you're going to kill her for it?Why not just wait for Damon?" Ric said.

"That's the short version. And if Damon's there, it'll just get...complicated." If they went in to confront her together, Katherine would use him, confuse him, spin his head and make everything worse. That was her game, and she was good at it. The whore. No, this had to come down to doppelganger versus doppelganger. "You gonna stop me?" Elena tightened her grip on the shoulder strap of her backpack. She thought the hard part would be getting Damon out of the house; she'd never counted on having to evade Ric.

Alaric looked at her, his head canted to the side. "There are only three things I have going for me in this world right now: You, Jeremy, and as much as it pains me to admit it, Damon. Without the three of you, all I've got is a bottle," he said.

"That can't be _all-_" Elena started, desperate to reassure him.

"I know, I know, I've got so much to live for. Like a dead wife who left me to become a vampire, a dead girlfriend who also became a vampire, and a quasi-girlfriend who's probably a serial killer," Alaric said with a tiny smile. "I'm not looking for sympathy; I'm just telling you the truth. Because I want you to be careful." He fixed her with a long, serious stare. "Besides, that crossbow you picked is way too small to take that bitch out. Let me get you something with a little more oomph."

* * *

><p>The stairs at Mrs. Flower's Bed and Breakfast creaked under Elena's feet. No matter how hard she tried to sneak, this old house seemed designed specifically to take away any stealthy advantage she might have had. Not that she could really sneak up on a vampire anyway, but it made her feel better. Glancing around for the old landlady, Elena eased the crossbow out of her bag, drawing a bolt back. It was a bit larger than what she and Ric had practiced with in the past, but in close quarters, he'd assured her this was what she needed. Stefan had already let Katherine's location slip the night before, and here she was.<p>

Elena stood in front of the door, wavering. Was she insane? Was she really going to barge into the room, loaded for bear, and convince Katherine to leave town, to leave the two of them alone? Did she really think she could _kill _Katherine? It seemed unlikely. Her courage faltered. This was _stupid_. She should just go to school, pretend to be a normal girl for a day, and come back tonight with Damon. Who did she think she was? She wasn't brave, she wasn't ready to do this.

The door opened, and her mirror image, all bouncy curls and sly smile, poked her head into the hallway. She blinked at Elena in surprise. "You aren't room service. Wasn't expecting to see you here. Especially not with that," she said, looking at the crossbow with a smirk. "Careful or you'll hurt yourself."

Seeing the woman, hearing that mocking voice, strengthened her resolve. Katherine didn't want Damon, but she couldn't stand the thought of anyone else having him. She'd never let him go, never let him be happy as long as she lived. Elena lifted the crossbow, aiming for her double.

"Oh, that's so cute," Katherine patronized. Elena never saw her move, but she felt the weapon being wrenched out of her hands. Then Katherine was leaning against the doorframe again, unstringing the bow with practiced movements. "Please, Elena. That was just embarrassing for both of us."

Elena stood there defenseless, clutching her bag. There were other weapons in there, but Elena knew any attempt for the grenades or stakes would end in exactly the same way. Idiot. It didn't matter how fast or how strong she was; _they _were always faster. She swallowed hard. "Why are you still here, Katherine? Why aren't you running again?"

"Why don't you come in? Wouldn't want Mrs. Flowers to hear us, now would we?" Katherine stepped aside, beckoning Elena in.

_Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly_, Elena thought with a tinge of hysteria as she stepped into the neat, old-fashioned little room. Katherine left the door slightly ajar. "There, do you feel better? Now the old bat can hear you if you scream." Katherine flopped down onto a bed strewn with designer dresses. "I've been expecting you. Thought you'd be here sooner. So let's chat," she said. "Rumor has it that Klaus is sweet on Caroline—tell me, is it true?" The vampire put her head in her hands, grinning at Elena like they were old gal pals.

Elena hovered near the door. Should she run? Should she scream? She never should have _come, _that was for damn sure. But she was here, and she was stuck. There was only one way out now. "I didn't come here to talk about them. You know why I'm here."

"Your doppelganger identity crisis. Yeah, that does kinda suck, doesn't it?" Katherine crossed her legs. "I remember when I first found out what I was and why everyone was so hot for my blood. Messes with your head, doesn't it?" She grinned. "Of course, I imagine it's even worse for you; at least I didn't wind up falling in love with Tatia's boy toys. Tell me, Elena, when _did _you realize that you loved them both?"

Elena edged into the room, perching awkwardly on the edge of a straight-backed chair, ready to flee at any moment. No, she'd have to play Katherine's game. This was how it was done. "One hundred and forty-six years you left them alone. Didn't just leave them alone—let them believe you were dead, even though it nearly destroyed Damon. Why did you come back?"

"What makes you think I came back for those two?" Katherine asked. "There's nothing particularly fascinating about the Salvatore brothers. They're easy on the eyes, sure, but a lot of men are. And with so much less baggage." She wrinkled her nose in a manner she obviously thought was adorable. "I heard there was a doppelganger in play, and that always makes life _so_ much more interesting. So I came back. The boys were just a coincidence."

"You didn't come here because of me. You knew Klaus would find me eventually, and then he'd find you and make you pay for what you did all those years ago. Why did you come back for them?" Elena asked.

Katherine smiled ruefully. "Well played, Gilbert. Fine, maybe I did love them. And miss them. Just a little."

"Both of them," Elena said.

"They make such a pretty pair: Stefan with that broody pout and all those false morals he loves to bandy about, Damon with that cute little smirk and that bad ass act. Honey, you should've known him back in the day. What a pathetic little nancy he was," she said with a laugh. "The bad boy thing is all an act, but it's a vast improvement, let me tell you."

Elena stifled her urge to spring to Damon's defense...even though Katherine was sort of right. For all Damon's swagger and smirking, he was a _good _man. In his own way. "If he's so pathetic, why do you still want him?"

Katherine looked at her with mild confusion. "Why do I want Damon_?_" she shrugged. "Except for maybe a little tumble for old time's sake, you can keep him." She grinned. "Tell me, does he still do that trick with his teeth where he-"

"If you don't want him, then why won't you leave us alone?" Elena interrupted. "If Stefan's really the one you want, he's unattached. You can go after him to your heart's content. Just leave Damon and me alone. _Please_, Katherine. You said we were family—doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"More than you'll ever know," she said softly. Katherine seemed to be a thousand miles away, staring into a past Elena couldn't even begin to imagine. But then the moment passed and the simpering, smirking bitch was back. "But I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't seen either of you since I gave you that book. I've been being dreadfully good. It's so boring," she pouted.

"You're really going to try to convince me that you _haven't _been sending me all those dreams?" Elena demanded.

"She didn't. Doesn't have anywhere near the artistry those dreams took. Thought the curtains were a nice touch, myself," a voice drawled from the door. Both women leapt to their feet, staring at the door with identical expressions of wide-eyed fear as Klaus strolled into the room. "Hello, sweethearts."

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><p><em>See ya'all on Friday. ;) <em>


	37. Understood

There was a breeze that ruffled Elena's clothing, and Katherine was gone. Klaus just laughed. "Ah, Katerina. So predictable. Always running at the slightest hint of danger." He turned his pale blue gaze on her, licked his too-red lips. "Not like you, in that way. You never run, do you? Not even when you should."

Elena heard his words, knew how dangerous he was just now, but she still couldn't process all the new information fast enough. It didn't make sense. Why would Klaus send her the dreams? Katherine lived to make those around her miserable, especially if they were a Salvatore. But it wasn't her. And Stefan, with those conflicted emotions he refused to allow himself to feel, it even would have made sense coming from him, as he tried to save her from the "bad" brother. But Klaus? What possible reason could he have to come between her and Damon—in driving her back into Stefan's arms?

And why was he here now, confessing? Shit. He knew. He knew about the spell Esther had cast, knew they were linked now and she was to blame. He'd come to taunt her one last time. Well, if she died taking him out, that would be all right. Damon would find a way to survive without her. They all would.

"Why?" she asked simply.

"Why should you run? Oh, love, do I really need to explain that to you?" he asked, settling himself down in the chair she'd vacated, clasping his hands around his knee.

"Why did you send the dreams, Klaus?" she asked.

"Oh. Those." He shrugged, gesturing for her to take the chair opposite him. "Please, sit. It's long past time you and I had a little chat, Elena."

Elena hesitated, but did as he asked, perching awkwardly on the edge of the chair, her back straight as a ramrod. His gaze made her skin crawl.

"Much better. Now, then. The dreams." He scratched his neck. "I've dream walked...a time or two over the centuries. Always interesting to peer 'round in someone's head, see what images dance behind their eyelids. Always something new to learn there. And you were particularly fascinating. All that fear wrapped up in love, one Salvatore swapping in and out for the other? You made it too easy."

Was that true? No. It couldn't be. He was playing with her again, trying to make her doubt. There was nothing interchangeable about Stefan and Damon. They shared blood, and they shared her love, but there the similarities ended. "Get to the point. No more hybrids if you bore me to death," she gritted.

Klaus' eyebrows raised, but he smiled. "Cocky little thing, aren't you? Ah, well. Here's the long and short of it, Elena: You're right. I do need you. I need your blood. But there's something else I need from you, something you can never give me so long as you're shagging a vampire."

She stared at him blankly. What was he talking about? Why did Klaus care who she was dating, so long as he knew who it was so he could torture them when the occasion called for it? Klaus helpfully filled in the blanks.

"Children, Elena. I need a continuation of your line. Doppelgangers are funny things, you see. They have to be _direct _descendants. And through the centuries, Katerina's little bastard progeny only produced one direct descendant." He smiled indulgently. "And with the _tragic_ death of dear old Isobel, that descendant is you."

Elena tried desperately to follow the twisted logic here. "So you wanted me to break up with Damon so I'd be able to have a mortal baby...by pushing me back towards Stefan?" This was a little convoluted, even for Klaus.

"No, he was merely an expedient tool to use. I knew you'd never give the younger Salvatore a serious chance again, not after what he did on the Wickery Bridge." He sucked in his breath. "Your screams that night—chilling. What it must have been like, for you to relive your parent's last moments. Haunting."

"Don't talk about them," she snapped. "You don't get to talk about them."

"As you like," he said. "But Stefan allowed me to plant a seed of doubt, with an assist with your crushing feelings of inadequacy towards Katerina, that is. You shouldn't sell yourself short, Elena, you're a lovely girl in your own right." 

"So you want me to break up with Damon,you 'know' I wouldn't go back to Stefan, then what? I'd go get knocked up just to make you happy?You think I would actually have children? Knowing what you'll do to them?" Elena asked.

"Come now, Elena, it wouldn't be _your _child, in all likelihood. It'd be some anonymous descendant a dozen generations down the line. Someone you'd never know. And don't you _want _children? To hold a new, precious life in your arms? Isn't that one of the reasons you've fought so hard to stay alive, to stay human? I'm trying to _help _you, Elena. I can help you get the normal life you've always wanted," he said gently. "You'd make a wonderful mother. What about the Donovan boy—Matt, isn't it? You loved him once. I could help you love him again."

Elena recoiled as if she'd been slapped. He was right, of course. Even though she knew that vampires were sterile, some part of her had always held out hope that one way or another, she'd find a way to have children of her own. There were ways, after all. But to hear him using those words against her made her feel ill. Her eyes narrowed. "I think you have bigger problems to worry about than who I'm dating, Klaus."

She regretted the words as soon as she'd spoken them. Klaus didn't snap—not yet. But he grew very still. "Explain yourself." 

Elena tried to backpedal, not to let those eyes terrify her into making a mistake. She had to be smarter than he was now, had to give Esther time to work her plan. "You have your mother back after a thousand years, your whole family back. Rebekah still hates you, Kol's crazy—he tried to kill your sperm donor Matt last night, did you know that? And I'm only eighteen—I can't even think about kids. Ric would _kill _me." She opened her eyes wide, trying to look young and innocent. "Maybe you should put your own house in order before you worry about mine," she said. Would he buy it?

He gave her a long, measuring look, rising from his seat. "I can be patient, Elena. But you're on notice. This obsession with Salvatores can't last. You'll get your time, but I will get my doppelganger, Elena. One way or another." He smoothed the lapels of his jacket. "You will tell Caroline 'hello' for me when you see her, won't you? That's a good girl."

Another breeze, and the room was empty. Elena didn't know if seconds or hours passed as she sat in the little room her hands trembling, her mind blank, but at some point Damon arrived. He looked around the room in confusion. "Where is he?"

"Gone," Elena said.

Damon gave her a quick once-over, apparently looking for missing limbs. Once he'd assured himself she was in tact, his temper exploded. "The hell, Elena? I can't even leave you for one day? First I get a call from Ric who's babbling about you going to see Katherine while toting a crossbow that could kill a goddamn bear. As I come rushing over here to save you from your own _massive _stupidity, I get a call from Katherine herself telling me Klaus was here to kill us all. What the hell were you thinking?" He loomed over her, eyes twitching across her face.

"It wasn't Katherine. She didn't send the dreams," Elena said.

"What? Look, that's not even the point right now. The point is you can't just run off and confront _Katherine, _of all people, on your own. We had a deal, Elena. Remember that?"

"Damon. You need to listen to me." She rose, possessed by a sudden and eerie calm. She rested her hands on either side of his face, gazing up at him with somber eyes. "I made a mistake. I screwed up. But I know what I need to do now. I know what _we _need to do."

"What are you talking about?" His eyes flickered to her wrist, where her vervain bracelet was still tied tightly. "You're not making sense," Damon asked uneasily.

But he was wrong. For the first time in a long time, everything made sense. There was only one solution, one way for all of them to make it out of this alive. More or less.

"I need you to turn me," she said.


	38. Swore

_Holy. Crap. 500+ reviews. I can't even begin to thank you all enough. Thank you. Writing this silly story has been an incredible experience so far—thanks for coming along for the ride. If you're interested in seeing some perspectives and ideas we don't get to explore in this story, you may want to check out my story "Sunshine Girl," which looks at Bill Forbes' life and death with Caroline, and "Flipped," which examines that coin toss in 3x15. But for now, let's just find out what Damon thinks of Elena's new plan, shall we?_

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><p>Damon's lips parted, but no words emerged. His eyebrows drew together, but the look on his face was unreadable, terrible and confused and something else—hopeful? Seconds of silence stretched into minutes, the only sound the thudding of her heart, the rush of blood in her ears. She knew what it would be like when her heart stopped, but she couldn't quite imagine what it would be like to awaken with that hunger which so defined Damon and which almost destroyed Stefan.<p>

She couldn't bear the silence any longer. "I thought you'd be happy. This was always _your _plan to keep me safe."

"I think," he said slowly. "You'd better start at the beginning."

They sat together on the edge of the bed and Elena told him everything. How she'd accused Katherine. How Klaus had swooped in and taken the credit. What he'd demanded from her. How she'd nearly ruined everything by telling him about Esther's plan. How a knot of icy fear had formed around her heart when he'd told her he'd get his doppelganger, one way or another.

"And I realized I _am _the cause of all these problems. But I don't have to be. If I turned, it would all be over. No one could use me, no one could try to sacrifice me, no one could use my family and friends to get to me. I wouldn't mean anything to them anymore. Or at least, I could protect the people I love. I can't do that now," she said. "Don't you see? It's the only solution we have. It would solve everything."

Damon was still silent. He ran one gentle finger along her cheekbones, just below her eyes. Was he imagining what it would look like when she changed, when the veins spread through her skin and her eyes turned to crimson? He pulled back abruptly, walking to the window and staring out at the trees.

"Say something," Elena pleaded.

He bowed his head, his face hidden. "I won't do it," he said. His voice was low and rough, as though the words caused him physical pain. "Not like this."

The thought that Damon might say no had never occurred to her. He'd wanted this for so long—forced his blood upon her, begged and pleaded and cajoled every way he knew how. And now when she was ready for it, when she _wanted _it, he refused her. "But why? I'm doing this for us, Damon. Didn't you hear what I told you? Klaus isn't going to stop until he gets what he wants."

"Klaus is going to die, Elena," he said, his back still to her. "We don't know when exactly that's going to be because you neglected to find out all the details of the ancient evil witch's master plan. But Klaus is going to die, and if I do what you're asking, you'd still be a vampire. Forever. And that's a word that actually means something after you're turned."

"And then we'd be together. Like you wanted," Elena said. Unless he'd decided that the prospect of spending eternity with her was too much to handle.

"But is it what _you _want? Because I didn't hear that anywhere in your list of reasons I should turn you." He turned to face her. "Thwart Klaus. Protect your friends and family. Save yourself." He ticked the reasons off on his fingers. "Nothing about what happens after that."

Her heart sank. "Of course we'd be together. Of course that's what I want. Damon-" she started.

"No. Whatever happened to 'if I turn, it'll be on my terms, not Klaus''? What happened to doing this for love and not fear, Elena? Is that just all out the fucking window? Everyone will be safe, and oh, by the way, we can finally be together? _We _shouldn't be an afterthought." He kicked Katherine's suitcase and it exploded against the wall, showering the room with silken dresses and satin underthings.

"You turned Vicki—you turned _Isobel, _ but you won't turn me?" Elena asked.

"Yeah, because I didn't give a flying fuck about either of them!" He clutched the window sill, and she heard the thick old wood creaking in his grasp. "And do you really think Klaus will just let you walk away? Have you forgotten that Katherine spent 500 years running from him? Not because he wanted her blood, but because he wanted _revenge._ Even if he didn't kill you outright, Klaus would make it his mission to make sure you spent an eternity alone." Elena could see the tension in his body, every muscle coiled to fight, to lash out, to strike. "You didn't think this through. And then you dangled it in front of me—the thing I want more than _anything_, Elena. And I have to say no." He laughed bitterly. "Life is too fucking ironic."

Tears prickled in her eyes. "I thought...I just want to end it. Here and now. I thought it'd be best for everyone. Even—maybe even _especially—_for you," she said. She moved toward him, resting her hand on his arm. Quick as a flash, he grabbed her, whirling her to face him, his hands wrapped loosely around her neck.

"Maybe I should do it," he said, his eyes wide. "Do it, and take you far, far away while you're transitioning. So far Klaus couldn't find us, so Esther could finish her plan." His fingers dug into the back of her neck, probing, as if determining how much strength it would take to shatter the fragile bones. Then he abruptly released her. "No. Once this is over, once Klaus is dead, you'd hate me. And you'd hate yourself for doing it because of him."

The tears that had threatened finally fell. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm doing this for the wrong reasons. But the only reason I can even consider it at all is because I know that when...when it's done, you'll be there. And if you're there, I can make it through anything."

And it was true. When she'd been with Stefan, the idea of turning had been repellant. Not just because she feared the change, not just because she'd be giving up a chance at a normal life and a family, not just because she feared she'd become a slave to the blood like Stefan or a monstrous, twisted thing like Katherine. She'd resisted because deep down, she knew she and Stefan couldn't last the centuries. That ultimately, she'd be alone. But if Damon was by her side? She knew that they could survive, that she could hold on to herself. Together, they could be happy. It wouldn't be a normal life, but normal had flown out the window the day a crow followed her home from school.

"Don't. Don't make this harder for me than it already is," he said.

"I don't know what else to do. I could go to Stefan—I could go to Elijah," she said, but she knew she never would. Damon was the only one she could trust, and she'd never do it without his consent, never take the risk that he wouldn't love her after it was done.

"You'll do exactly what you want to do, Elena. You always do, as today's latest adventure in idiocy proves. But I'm asking you not to. Not yet," he said.

"How many more people have to die so I can live? How many more of my friends do I have to bury so we can keep pretending I can ever be _normal?_" She fought the rising panic. "He threatened to compel me, Damon—to compel me to love Matt so he could get me to _breed, _like some kind of animal. And he could do it, we both know he could. I can't let him," she said, breath coming in short gasps. It was easy for him to tell her to be patient, easy when he didn't have all those bodies stacked up behind him, all those who had sacrificed themselves for her, when one drink and one snap would solve all their problems.

"I know. You don't think that thought doesn't make me want to run out of here and get myself killed trying to take down Klaus? Because it _does. _But I can't. We have to keep it together." His hand clenched into a fist, knuckles white. "You already risked everything to help Esther. We have to at least give that plan a shot. Let's at least see this through. Then, whether Klaus is alive or dead, we can revisit the issue." He reached for her hand. For once, his skin felt warm against hers. She was so cold. "Please. For me."

She squeezed his hand, and gave a nod. She could wait. For him, she would try to be brave. "Swear it, Elena. Swear it on Jeremy's life," Damon said urgently..

"I swear," she said. "I swear I'll wait. I won't do anything without you. I owe that to you."

He took her into his arms, holding her close. "You do. Just see that you keep your promise this time," he said, pressing his lips against her hair. "I love you, but I could've killed you when Ric called me."

"I was trying to help. I didn't want for you to have to hurt Katherine," Elena said.

"I know. You're always trying to help. Hate to break it to you, kiddo, but you kinda suck at it," he said with a wry smile as he released her. She managed a laugh. "Not to mention that hurting Katherine is just good, clean fun. Now let's get the hell out out of here."

They left the bed and breakfast hand in hand, but Elena looked back at the building with hard eyes. She'd keep her promise, but it only extended so far. No one else would die because of her.


	39. Lied

"So what did Esther say?" Elena asked. She and Bonnie sat cross-legged on Caroline's bed, a small brazier of burning sage between them. She and Damon had parted ways at the bed and breakfast; he claimed he still had something he had to do for Carol Lockwood. Elena had been planning to head home to get some homework done, but a text from Bonnie had given her an excellent reason to procrastinate.

Bonnie shrugged. "Wanted to introduce herself. Said it was only right, since she was channeling the power of the entire Bennett line through my m-" she broke off with a shake of her head, waving the sage through the air. "Through Abby and me. That's why we passed out when she got out of the coffin. She drew too much power from us at once. She apologized for that, too."

"Wait, she's _channeling _you? What does that even mean? Can you stop it?" Elena frowned at the burning sage. "There was more smoke when Esther did it. Maybe you need to keep it burning?"

"It's a tricky spell, give it a minute," Bonnie said. "Channeling just means she's using us as a focus, kind of, to draw power from our ancestors. Like how I can sometimes pull from the spirits in the Witch House." Bonnie dropped the little bundle of charred herbs into the brazier with a sigh. "And she wanted to let us know that it's happening tonight. The moon's full, we're going to be able to take down the Originals once and for all." Bonnie gave a satisfied smile, and for an instant, all Elena could see was Bonnie standing over Damon's prone body, that same smile on her face as he screamed and screamed.

The bedroom door opened and Caroline's voice broke Elena from her reverie. "First, this spell isn't working; I can hear everything you're saying. Second, that stuff is totally making my room smell like ass. And third, thank God we're finally getting rid of them. It's about time."

"Klaus told me to tell you hello, Caroline," Elena said, looking up at her friend. Granted, Elena didn't really have any room to judge other people's relationship choices, but at the same time, she had eyes. She'd seen the way they'd danced together, seen the flush in Caroline's cheeks when she'd talked about how Klaus had shown her the life she could have. Would Caroline really be so glad to see the end of him?

"Despite what you may think, I'm not an idiot," Caroline said. "His attention is...flattering. But I've never forgotten he's the reason Tyler's gone, he's the reason my dad's dead, and he nearly killed me. All the fancy dresses and drawings in the world won't change that. If we have a chance to kill him, then I say let the motherfucker _burn_," she said with quiet intensity.

Both Bonnie and Elena stared at their friend in stunned silence. Caroline was so good at adapting, so good at coping with the insanity they dealt with on a daily basis, it was easy to forget what she'd lost. But Caroline was no longer that silly girl who only cared about winning Miss Mystic Falls or planning the next decade dance at school. She was smart, she was cunning, and when she had to be, she was ruthless.

Elena sighed. "I wish I was as sure as you are. I just can't forget what Elijah did before the sun and moon ritual. How he found a way to save me, even when he didn't have to."

"No, he _told _you he found a way to save you. That bottle could have been full of colored water for all we know. It was in his best interest to get you to shut up and go along quietly with the ritual. And it's too late to get cold feet. It's happening," Bonnie said.

The girls gave up on the spell and engaged in half-hearted gossip about their classmates, but Elena couldn't focus. Caroline and Bonnie were both right: Klaus deserved to die. And if it had been just Klaus, Elena could have been just as happy as they were about sending him to hell. But Elijah was a good person. Could she really stand by while he died? She knew what Damon would call him. Collateral damage. But she didn't know if that was really okay.

Elena begged off, truthfully saying she needed to head home to that massive pile of schoolwork. She made her way slowly to her car, still lost in her thoughts. If she told Elijah, was there anything he could really do at this point to stop the inevitable? Elijah knew a lot, but he wasn't a warlock. And then there was the issue of Klaus. They'd run out of magical Klaus-killing devices. The ritual, Mikael, the white oak tree, the hope of what was in the coffin—they'd exhausted all their options for killing him. If she ruined this chance to kill Klaus, would there be another opportunity? How many ways were there to kill the unkillable?

She started to unlock her car door, but stopped when she felt the gust of wind at her back. After being around vampires for so long, she'd learned that the slight disturbance in the air was the only sure-fire way to know when one was creeping up on you. They were too quiet, too still, but even they couldn't fool the air.

"Elena," Stefan said. "We need to talk."

Elena rested her forehead against the cool glass of the car window. The very last thing _she _needed right now was to have a talk with Stefan. What she needed was to go home, turn off her phone and lock herself in her room until tomorrow morning when it was all be over. What she needed to do was get her head on straight and realize that this was her only chance at happiness and a real life. What she _didn't _need was to get wrapped up in an argument with Stefan that would surely only confuse her more.

She turned to face him, arms folded defensively across her chest. They'd better get this over with. "Stefan, there's nothing to talk about. But you should be happy—Klaus will be dead by the time the moon rises." She forced a smile, but it felt twisted and wrong on her lips. "You won. Congratulations."

Surprise lit Stefan's face. "He will? Tonight?"

She nodded. "All of them will. Esther's got some ritual planned; Bonnie and Abby are helping. They're all linked together so if one goes, they all go." Elena knew she should walk away right then and there, but she couldn't resist twisting the dagger. "So now that you've achieved the only thing in life that matters to you, what will you do next?"

Stefan had been lying to her. Maybe not all along, but what he'd said on the porch last night had been a bald-faced lie. She saw it then, as regret and sadness and loss danced across his face. There was no joy, no happiness in accomplishing his revenge. He felt, all right. He felt everything, and he hated himself for feeling it. Damon had been right all along—the switch was a lie. Maybe Klaus' compulsion had made him believe it was true, but Elena could see the guilt threatening to swallow Stefan whole.

"I'm sure the answer to that question is fascinating," an urbane voice called from the street. The pair turned, and Elijah came strolling up the driveway, his long coat flapping in the breeze. Stefan moved to stand in front of Elena. "But it's actually the first part of your confession that interests me most. Tell me more about what's happening tonight, Elena."

No. No. No. How was this possible? Was every vampire in Mystic Falls just stalking her, waiting for her to slip up? How could she have been so _stupid_?

"Deceit is not in your nature, Elena, so I was puzzled you would lie to my face about my mother's intentions." Elijah stopped in front of the pair, hands shoved casually into his pockets. "I can hear your heartbeat, you know. It..._jumps _when you lie. Right now though, it's racing with fear. Which is only natural; you should be afraid. But if you tell me what you know, no harm will come to you. You have my word."

"I'm sorry, Elijah. But you're too late. There's no way to stop it," Elena said, her voice wavering. Truth be told, she was _terrified_. But there simply wasn't anything any of them could do to stop the ritual tonight. Esther would get what she wanted, and her children would die.

"Interesting. You're not lying; not exactly. But you're a resourceful young woman, Elena. You and your Salvatores always manage to find another way, if you have the proper motivation."

Elena heard the _crack _before she saw him move. Stefan crumpled to the ground before her, Elijah at his side, pressing a syringe of vervain into his neck. A scream tore its way out of her throat. Elijah rose, slinging the corpse over his shoulder. "Perhaps this will provide you and the elder Salvatore with that motivation." He glanced at his watch. "You have until six minutes past nine tonight to find another way, or I will see to it that my last act on this earth is his death."

Elena stared after him, too stunned to move. Elijah turned to leave, but glanced over his shoulder at her. "Please believe me when I say that for both your sake and his, I hope you find another way. Don't fail me, Elena."

Then she was alone, with just over four hours to accomplish the impossible.


	40. Sacrificed

"Original Bitch is channeling her power through you, right? Just cut her off. Problem solved; no ritual, no dead Originals, we get Stefan back. Hurray," Damon said.

They were huddled in Caroline's bedroom again. A panicky phone call had summoned Damon immediately, and though he was trying to take Stefan's kidnapping in stride, Elena could hear the strain in his voice, see how his hand clenched and unclenched at his side.

"I couldn't stop her if I wanted to. Because of her tie to Ayanna, she can pull magic out of Abby and me with or without our permission," Bonnie explained. She was leafing through her grimoire, but stopped, looking at Elena. "But...I'm not sure I want to."

"What the fuck are you talking about, Bonnie? This is Stefan we're talking about. If it was me, I'd get it, but you actually _like_ him," Damon said, advancing on the witch.

Bonnie held up a hand in warning, and Damon stopped with a frustrated growl. "I do like Stefan. But that doesn't change the facts. He's a vampire, and he's a killer. He spent the entire summer murdering innocents. His death would be a sacrifice for the greater good. I think it's what he'd want—so he could atone for the evil he's done," Bonnie said.

"He's my _brother,_" Damon said, suddenly sounding so lost and alone. Elena took his hand, and he gripped it with all his might.

"Damon's right, Bonnie. We have to try to save him. There will be other opportunities to kill the Originals; other full moons. But if there's any hope of saving him, we have to try," Elena said. After tonight, she had no problems killing Elijah. As Caroline had so eloquently said, let the motherfucker burn. But not at the cost of Stefan's life. If the roles were reversed and she was the one who had been kidnapped, he'd be fighting just as hard to save her...or would he? Even seeing his face tonight, the guilt written large across his features, she still wasn't sure he'd be able to put his vengeance aside. Not after what had happened on the bridge.

But even if Stefan wasn't worth saving on his own merits—and Elena still believed that he was—his loss would destroy Damon. While there was still hope, they'd fight. They'd find a way.

Bonnie sighed. "Okay. I'll keep looking, but this should be Plan B. Breaking a blood tie isn't an easy thing."

"Where's Abby?" Damon asked.

"At the motel where she's staying, that sketchy one out on Route 4. Why?" Bonnie asked.

"She should stay there. If you don't have to be present for this ritual hoodoo to go down, it'll be be better if she's safe from Elijah and the rest," he said. "And I've got Plan A right here." He reached into his breast pocket and produced a familiar dagger.

"You carry that thing around with you?" Caroline asked. "What if you accidentally stab yourself?"

"I'm not an Original; it won't hurt me. Besides, better here than at home where someone could grab it. Blondie, you and Klaus were awful cozy last night. Did you get his cell phone number?"

Caroline's eyes narrowed. "I don't know where you get off talking to me like that-"

"I don't care if you're fucking him or playing him, though I hope it's the latter. But I need you to draw him out into the open and distract him. After Stefan helped you live a well-adjusted vampire teen life, I assumed you'd want to help him, not kill him," Damon said, casting a disparaging look at Bonnie.

"Oh." Caroline paused, her tirade interrupted. She collected herself and moved on. "He's already in the open. He just texted me asking me to have drinks with him and Kol."

"Perfect. Caroline, you're with me." He cast an appraising eye at her, then reached out and tugged her shirt down, revealing more cleavage. She smacked his hand away. "That's better. Let's go; I gotta call Ric," Damon said, turning to the door. Elena moved to follow him.

"Nope. Nuh uh. No way. You are staying here, and I don't have time to argue with you," Damon said.

"You're calling Ric because you need a human. I qualify," Elena said. "Who knows where he might be—he mentioned something earlier about seeing Meredith. I'm coming," she said.

Damon puffed his cheeks out, clearly wanting to argue with her. "Dammit. You're right. But you're not going in unprotected." An instant later, he was extending a dripping, bloody wrist to her, the redness lingering in his eyes. "You drink or you don't go. No debate, no discussion."

Elena hesitated. After their argument just a few hours ago, she was surprised to see Damon offering. After all, there was nothing stopping her from slitting her wrists when this was all done, when the blood was still in her system. She could do it, if she really wanted. And he knew that. "If there was another option, I'd take it. You'll do what you need to do. But I can't lose you both," he said softly.

She didn't need convincing. She moved forward to take his wrist, but Bonnie let out a disgusted cry. "Elena, you can't do that. You don't have to do what he tells you to-"

"This isn't your call. Let her decide," Caroline said.

"I'm sorry, Bonnie," Elena said, pulling the wrist toward her. She looked up at Damon. "I swore to you. I won't break it. We decide together." There was no pleasure in drinking the blood; it was thick and tepid and awkward, standing there in the pretty, frilly bedroom with the dripping wrist at her lips. But she obediently lapped up a few mouthfuls and pulled back, wiping her mouth.

"Good. Done. Let's go," Damon said.

The three filed out of the room, but Elena could feel Bonnie's eyes burning into them as they left.

* * *

><p>The plan failed miserably. Well, not at first. At first everything went according to plan: Caroline drew Klaus away with false smiles and tinkling laughter; Elena distracted Kol with lowered eyelids and quiet flirtation. And then she stabbed him, the thin dagger desiccating him in seconds. But then it all went to hell.<p>

Damon was lugging Kol's decaying body out into the alley behind the Grill when Klaus came, throwing them both around like dolls and ripping the dagger from his brother's chest. And then they were alone amid the trash cans. Elena lay stunned against the wall, clutching her ribs. She felt the blood working inside of her, screamed as the broken bones in her chest snapped back into place. Damon was at her side, helping her to her feet. "You okay?"

"No. I mean, yeah, I'm fine. But now what are we gonna do?" Elena said. She looked up at Damon, expecting to see him frantic with worry. But he wasn't. There was no panic as he checked his phone for the time, only a weary resignation. Was he really giving up on Stefan so easily? Impossible. Damon never said die.

"Eight thirty. Call Bonnie, see if she found anything," Damon said.

"You know something. You know something I don't know," Elena said. "What's your plan?"

"Call her."

She wanted to press the point, but there wasn't time. She dialed the number. "Bonnie. Any luck?"

"I've been through everything. I'm sorry, Elena. As long as Esther's channeling us, she can reach every witch in my lineage, living and dead. I can't break it. There's nothing that can be done. I'm sorry," Bonnie said. And Elena believed her, genuinely believed that Bonnie would miss Stefan, would be sorry for the pain his death caused her. But she also knew that Bonnie would celebrate the death of the Originals, that she'd move on. She wasn't sure either she or Damon would be able to do the same.

"Just keep looking. There's still time. Call me when you find something," Elena said.

Damon reached into his pocket and produced his keys, pressing them into her hand. "Go get Caroline, and then go be with Bonnie. She's going to need you."

"Why is Bonnie going to need me, Damon?" Elena asked. What was he talking about? They'd lost. They were almost out of time, they were entirely out of options. So why was he worrying about Bonnie, of all people?

"It's better if you don't know. It's better if you can honestly tell her you didn't know what I was going to do," he said. He drew her close and kissed her. "Tell her I'm sorry. But I can't let him go."

He released her and she was alone. And she knew. The moment he was gone, she understood. "No!" she cried, already dashing for the car. She ripped her phone from her pocket, frantically dialed Bonnie. But there was no answer this time. It rang and rang and rang. "Hey! This is Bonnie. I'm probably out doing something _amazing_ right now, so leave a message and I'll get back to you when I have the time." She sounded so young.

"Bonnie, you have to call Abby. You have to tell her—you have to tell her not to let anyone in. Goddammit, pick up your phone, Bonnie!" Elena reached the car, but knew she'd be too late. She wasn't fast enough. But she had to try.

On the frantic miles between the Grill and Route 4, she tried again and again to reach Bonnie, to reach Damon, to reach anyone, but there was never an answer. Could Damon get into a motel room? Did he have to be invited? He'd been able to get into Katherine's room at the bed and breakfast, but Katherine was dead. _Fuck. _Vampire rules.

It wasn't right, it wasn't fair. Elena didn't want Stefan to die either—would gladly have laid her own life down so he could live. But she couldn't ask Abby—she couldn't ask _Bonnie—_to make the same sacrifice. Not for a man who'd already lived three lifetimes and more. Maybe the cost was acceptable to Damon, but it wasn't. It just _wasn't._

Elena reached the motel just in time to see Damon carrying Abby's prone body from the room, her head lolling bonelessly. Their eyes met, his black and shining in the night. Slowly, he shook his head and disappeared into the trees.


	41. Done

_The light in the hospital was too bright, lancing through Elena's eyelids. A machine beeped, its steady rhythm a quiet comfort in the unfamiliar place. She was floating, floating on a cloud of something cottony and soft, but beneath the shroud was pain. Her body knew it was in agony, even if her mind had been swaddled safely away. Echoing in her ears was a scream that ended in a watery gurgle. She opened her leaden eyes. Jenna sat slumped in a chair at her bedside, head cradled in her hands._

"_Aunt Jenna," Elena rasped. _

"_Oh, honey. You're awake," her aunt said, raising her head and putting on a brave face, but Elena saw the brightness in her eyes, and she knew. _

"_Mom? Dad?" She knew the answer, but she had to ask, had to know._

"_You should wait for the doctor," Jenna said, reaching through the slatted side of the hospital bed to squeeze Elena's hand, fighting her way through tubes and sensors. "You should wait," she repeated._

"_Both of them? They're both...?" She couldn't say the word. _

_Jenna just nodded. "I'm sorry, Elena. I'm so sorry."_

_Blackness yawned, and Elena let it take her, as it had taken them._

Somehow, Elena ended up back in front of Caroline's house, though she had no memory of the drive. This house had seen too much death, too much despair. Were they all really only eighteen? Two parents between the three of them now. It wasn't fair.

But fairness didn't matter in this world; all that mattered was how you managed with the shitty hand you'd been dealt. Elena forced herself to dry the tears that had appeared on her cheeks like dew and made the long walk up the drive to Caroline's front door. Did they know? What if they didn't know? How was Elena supposed to tell Bonnie that she'd lost another family member because of Damon—because of _her?_

The front door swung open before she could knock, and one look at Caroline's face told her everything.

"Is she-" Elena started.

"She's with her mom. Abby's in transition," Caroline said.

Elena hadn't been sure, hadn't known what Damon had done. He'd tried to do the right thing, to make sure Bonnie still _had _a mother, even if she wasn't quite the same, but Elena honestly didn't know if it would have been better if Abby had died outright, died and been buried in the earth. Could Bonnie accept her mother like this?

"Can I see her?" Elena asked.

"She doesn't want to see you right now," Caroline said. "The next few days are going to be tough. I don't...I don't know what Abby will do when she wakes up." Her voice cracked. Bill was barely cold in his grave after rejecting everything Caroline was, and now she had to go through it all over again. Elena didn't think, she just wrapped her arms around her friend.

It wasn't supposed to be like this, not for any of them. Only a year ago, they'd had the world on a string—popularity, friends, loving families, bright futures. Now their worlds were shattered, their families scattered, and their futures uncertain. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

The girls held each other, showering the other with her tears. Then they pulled apart, Caroline fanning her eyes with her hands. "I have to get back to Bonnie," she said.

"Are you sure I can't see her?" Elena asked again. She didn't know what she'd say to Bonnie, knew there were no words of comfort she could give. But she wanted to try.

Caroline shook her head. "She doesn't blame you, but I think right now, when she looks at you, all she can see is him. Give her time."

"I didn't want for this to happen. I tried—" she shook her head. "It doesn't matter. It's done now. Just...tell her I love her. And that I'm sorry. But mostly that I love her."

"She loves you too, Elena. So much." Caroline smiled through her tears. "So do I. We'll get through this. Somehow. Just let her be with her mom right now."

"Love you," Elena said. The door closed, and all was still. Faintly, within the house, she could hear a keening cry of grief.

* * *

><p>He was waiting for her, standing at the window in Elena's bedroom. He didn't react when she entered, didn't move a muscle, just watched the live oak toss in the wind outside.<p>

"Stefan?" she asked.

"Elijah kept his word," Damon said.

"Is he hurt?"

Damon shrugged. "Stefan tried—ah, it doesn't matter. He's fine now. Or he will be. He'll heal. I even left him a couple of squirrels for a snack."

"What does that mean? And why is he eating squirrels?" Elena finally advanced into the room, looking longingly at the bed. She knew if she stopped now, if she lay down, the grief and exhaustion and horror of the night would consume her, and she might never rise again.

"My brother, the boy wonder, tried to do the noble thing. Shocker. When he realized what it would mean if we stopped the ritual, he tried to provoke Rebekah into killing him." Damon still didn't face her, just toyed with his ring, turning it around and around on his finger. "He's a little rough, but he'll live. As for the rodents...You'll have to ask him."

Elena nodded. Some part of her realized something had shifted, something about Stefan had fundamentally changed, but she couldn't take it all in. Not yet. She drifted over to her vanity, staring at the pictures that ringed the mirror. A happy family. All smiles. What had happened to them?

"Say it," Damon commanded.

"What do you want me to say?" Elena asked. She tugged one of the photos free. The four of them at the lake house, just a few weeks before the accident. The first boating weekend of the year, all of them beaming into the camera from the deck of the boat. Even Jeremy had a smile, sullen and grudging as it was.

"You hate me, I was wrong, I should have let Stefan die," Damon spat.

"Maybe you should have," Elena said, fingers brushing across the glossy surface of the photo. "Bonnie's going to kill you, you know."

"I don't give a fuck what Bonnie does. I care what _you_ think," Damon said. He was suddenly behind her, grabbing her arm, forcing her to face him. The picture fluttered out of her hands.

His face was deceptively calm. It was a lie. The tension in his mouth, the loathing in his eyes. "Is it easier for you if I say I hate you? If I yell and scream at you?" she asked. For Damon, hate was easier to accept than pity. He couldn't bear for her to know the truth, that his family was his greatest weakness, that he cared so deeply for them that morality, right and wrong, his very soul became irrelevant in his quest to preserve those he loved. Better for her to scream at him, pound her fists against his chest and tell her she'd never forgive him than for her to look at him with sadness in her eyes, as she did now.

"I did what I had to do, Elena. It was the only choice," he said, almost pleading.

"No. It wasn't," Elena said. "He's lived one hundred and sixty-three years, Damon. That's enough for anyone. He wouldn't have wanted Abby to die. He wouldn't have wanted Klaus to _live._"

"She's not dead! She'll be up walking around in an hour, the same as always. _Better_ than always! She'll get a hundred and sixty-three years of her own," Damon said. "And what does his age have to do with anything? He's my baby brother, Elena. What if it had been Jeremy?"

"If it had been Jeremy," Elena said quietly, "you know exactly what I would have done."

He flung her arm away, turning back to the window. She watched his reflection in the glass, blurry and indistinct. "Even when I hated him, Stefan was the one constant in my life. He was my fucked up north star," he said. "Bonnie's gonna kill me, you're pissed at me, even if you won't say so. Hell, _Stefan_ hates me." He rubbed his jaw. "But I'd do it again."

"If I could have stopped you, I would have. But I couldn't. It's done," she said. She moved to stand beside him. Blood was smeared on both his wrists, the color of dying roses. "I hurt for Bonnie. She just found her mom again, and now...I don't know what happens now. And Klaus. I don't know what's going to happen to any of us." The tree pawed at the window with skeletal fingers. "But I'm not sorry you did what you did. For your sake, for his, for mine. But we'll pay a price."

"I'll pay it. I'll take whatever comes," Damon said. Something caught his eye, and he knelt, claiming the photo that had dropped from her fingers. He looked at the smiling family in the photo, strangers all.

Elena took the photo, tucking it back into the frame of the mirror. "Leave the dead be," she said.

Their bodies found each other then, kissing and touching with frantic energy, full of passion but devoid of joy. Here in the world of the dead, they had to confirm they still lived. In the ruins of the night, they found each other.


	42. Felt

She woke to the smell of leather. But that didn't make any sense—she distinctly remembered shucking Damon's leather jacket off of him just before...well, she remembered the jacket falling to the ground, quite forgotten. She opened her eyes, but immediately wished she hadn't. Why was she laying in the backseat of Damon's car? His jacket was serving as a pillow, though he'd tucked her comforter tightly around her.

"Good morning, sunshine," Damon called from the front seat. Wooded hills flashed past the window.

"Please tell me we aren't in Georgia," Elena said groggily, pushing herself upright.

"Cute. No, North Carolina," he said. "I've got breakfast up here, if you're hungry."

Starving, as a matter of fact. She threw the blanket aside and squeezed her way between the seats to flop down next to him. A Thermos, a bagel, and an apple waited for her. She greedily opened the Thermos, taking a deep gulp of the steaming hot coffee, full of cream and sugar, just the way she liked it.

"Still don't know how you can drink that," Damon said.

"Still don't know why we're in North Carolina," Elena said as she attacked the bagel. Even though the trees were mostly bare, it was still beautiful, all rolling hills and steep cliffs that led to sweeping vistas that extended for miles.

"You really just need to learn to enjoy the moment. It's a beautiful day, we have a stretch of open road ahead of us and nowhere to be. Does it really matter why?" Damon asked, giving up any pretense of looking at the road, his attention focused solely on her.

"Did you hit your head? Did you forget everything that happened last night? We have Originals who hate us, Esther who also now hates us for screwing up her plan, Bonnie who probably hates us—well, _you—_for turning her mom...and I feel like I'm forgetting something," Elena said, tearing the bagel into tiny bits.

"Well, Stefan's being extra broody, if that counts," Damon said.

"Damon, I can't be in North Carolina. I need to be back in Mystic Falls, with Bonnie and Caroline. And you need to be with Stefan," she said. She threw the bagel down, her appetite gone.

He looked back to the road, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. "It was Caroline's idea that we leave town," he admitted. "She thought it might be easier for Bonnie and her mom if we weren't around while Abby...adjusted."

"Easier if _we _aren't around or easier if _you_ aren't around?" Elena asked.

"We," he said. Blue eyes strayed from the road again. "Caroline said Bonnie isn't taking it well. Thought a few days away might do us all some good. And I agree with her."

Elena picked up the apple, twisting the stem around and around. What had she expected to happen, really? That Bonnie would smile and say it was for the best that Stefan was alive, that it was okay her mom had to turn, so long as Stefan was okay? It was probably even harder for Bonnie because she was so conflicted about her mother to begin with, wasn't really sure how much of Abby's absence to forgive, wasn't sure why her mother had abandoned her and found a whole new family. "So Abby decided to finish it, to turn," she said.

"Yep."

"You could at least pretend to feel a little guilty," Elena said crossly. "You could act like you feel even a _little _bad about what you're putting Bonnie through."

"Don't you mean what I'm putting _Abby_ through?" Damon said. Elena winced, chagrined. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Look, you can get lathered up in a self-righteous tizzy if you want, but let's not pretend that this has anything to do with Abby fucking Bennett."

"You took away her life, you took away her choice. That should mean something, to you of all people," Elena said.

"What, so I should have let her die? I tried to find another way, but it didn't work. So the only two options I had left—the only two _acceptable _options—were to kill her or turn her. And since you had begged me not six hours before to turn _you_, I think you oughta tone down the vampire judginess a little."

"Do you feel guilty?" Elena demanded. She knew that Damon, that all vampires, experienced emotion differently than humans did. It was part of the whole package, she guessed. But even if he didn't really consider being a vampire a bad thing (and Elena wasn't sure she did either, anymore), he should at least _act _guilty. That's just what people did.

Silence. They drove through a tunnel, yellow lights casting eerie shadows over them. "Do you want the truth or do you want me to make you feel better?" Damon asked.

"The _truth_," Elena said.

"No. I don't feel guilty. Not for this." The leather steering wheel creaked under his hands. "I'm sorry you're...upset? Whatever the hell you are right now; I don't even know. I'm sorry Bonnie's pissed, but mostly because it upsets you and I _do _care about you. But do I care about Abby? No. Do I think being a vampire's such a terrible thing for her?" He shrugged. "Worked out pretty okay for me. But if you wanted guilt and self-flagellation, you shoulda stuck with Stefan."

Yeah, that was about what she'd figured. He didn't care that the act was wrong in and of itself, he only cared about how it affected him. Elena wasn't even sure if that was a vampire thing or just an asshole thing. "Is that how this is gonna work? Every time we fight, you're just going to throw Stefan around? Look, this relationship can't have three people in it."

"This relationship has at least four people in it that I can count, and there'll probably be more before it's all said and done," Damon said. "Did you want to include Matt? We could add him in, too, make it five."

"Just turn the car around, Damon. I want to go home," Elena said, folding her arms across her chest and staring out the window. She wasn't going to deal with this. Not when her friends back home needed her. Hell, shouldn't Damon be with the brother he'd fought so hard to save? They couldn't just up and leave town. Not now. Things were happening too fast and the stakes were too high for them to just turn tail now.

"No can do." Damon exited the interstate. "You, me, and all our emotional baggage are just going to have to get along for a few days. Anything else you'd like to yell at me about? I'd really rather get it out of the way now, before we get there."

"You're a dick, you know that?" Elena said.

"Language, Elena," Damon said in a scandalized tones. The "town" they drove through once off the highway made Mystic Falls look cosmopolitan. There was a gas station with a sad little convenience store attached, a greasy spoon, and a white clapboard church. That was it. Not even a traffic light. Damon made a hard right onto a graveled road that seemed to lead straight up the mountainside.

"I swear I can hear banjos," Elena said. "Where are we going?"

"Nowhere in particular. My only qualification was that it was away from Mystic Falls," Damon said. "This place seems to be away from damn near everywhere, so mission accomplished."

They drove in silence through the thick, barren trees, moving ever upward on the winding road. Elena didn't want to fight with Damon, truly she didn't. Not about Abby, not about Stefan, not about any of it. But living with Damon's moral code (or lack thereof) was an adjustment. He'd turn Abby without a thought to save his brother, but most times he seemed to _despise _Stefan. Yet, by his own admission, Damon would never be able to let Stefan go, just as Stefan had been unable to do the same so many years ago.

Elena couldn't help but wonder what would happen if Damon were forced to choose between her and Stefan. But a sneaking suspicion told her she knew the answer. Blood was thicker than water, and the men were double-bound by blood. And maybe that was all right; maybe that was good. As much as she loved Damon—and as frustrated as she was with him, she did still love him—if it came down to him or Jeremy, Elena wouldn't hesitate to choose her brother.

She blinked as the car came to an abrupt stop. In front of them sprawled a massive house, looking like some Swiss chalet had been plunked down in the Blue Ridge Mountains. It was beautiful, opulent, and classic. In other words, it was utterly Damon.

"Huh. Looks like the pictures. Good," Damon said as he climbed out of the car. He circled to the trunk, removing two small suitcases. Elena eyed her Vera Bradley duffel uncertainly, and Damon grinned. "Can't _wait _until you see what I packed for you," he said as they crunched up the gravel drive toward the house.

"Can you even get in? Have you been invited?" Elena asked, looking dubiously at the solid oak door in front of them.

Damon punched four digits on a keypad next to the door, and she heard a lock spring open. "The owner told me on the phone I'd be welcome any time." He nudged the door open and stuck his foot inside. "It counts." He pushed the door open more fully, and she stepped inside. She'd never understand all these vampire rules.

The inside was just as exquisite as the outside—all hardwood and stone, all gleaming and polished and terribly expensive. Elena felt certain she would break one of the delicate, graceful statues set into recessed niches with their own back lighting. She wandered through the house, stopping at the dramatic glass windows that gave a breathtaking view of the valley below them, tiny puffs of smoke rising here and there in lazy curls.

Arms wrapped around her waist, and Damon nuzzled against her ear. "I know you want to be back with them. I know you want to be there for Bonnie. But for right now, can't you just try to enjoy this?"

Elena leaned against him, sighing. Yes, she wanted to be in Mystic Falls. She wanted to be fighting Klaus and standing with her friends, not hiding like a coward. But if this was the way to keep him safe from Bonnie's wrath, the way to give Bonnie some time to grieve and heal and deal with whatever happened next...well, he was right. "You're still a dick," she murmured. "But we might as well make the best of it."

"That's my girl," Damon said.

* * *

><p><em>For once, we'll leave our dear characters on a happy(ish) note. See you guys on Friday.<em>


	43. Rolled

_All right, guys, it's time for a change. If we keep up at this pace with the story, we'll be about 25,000 words more down the road before we see another new episode of the show. At that point, one of two things will have happened: This story will have become desperately boring as I attempt to tap dance around major plot points, or it will stop being a parallel story and become a really AU story, which is not what I want. So don't worry, the story isn't over, and it isn't even on hiatus. We're just going to slow down. No more daily posts until the show returns, though I will update a couple times a week. In the meantime, I'll be working on some other projects, so if you're interested, make sure to sign up for author alerts. _

_I think this will be for the best for the story overall. Thanks for sticking with me this far. Hang around a little longer, we've still got miles to go before we sleep._

* * *

><p>"You've gotta be kidding me—a hotel on Park Place?" Damon groaned. Elena just grinned as she set the little red building on the Monopoly board. She'd been thrilled to find the well-stocked closet of games hidden in a spare bedroom. Damon had humored her, and the two lay sprawled on a rug in front of the fire, piles of fake money and plastic houses spread around them.<p>

"You are looking at the Gilbert family Monopoly champion," she said as she handed him the dice. "We used to rotate on game night, so everyone got to play their favorite game. Pictionary for Jer, Trivial Pursuit for Dad, and Clue for Mom. But everyone hated it when I chose Monopoly, because I always won."

"Yeah, I can see that." Damon scowled at the board. "There isn't any point in me going; I only have twenty dollars left. Your draconian landlord policies cleaned me out."

"Well, we could arrange a high-interest loan, but I'll need collateral," Elena said, the corners of her mouth twitching.

"Oh, screw that. I'll take my chances with jail." He put on his best mobster accent. "No cell built that can hold me, see," Damon said, releasing the dice. He scooted his little hat-shaped piece along the board, neatly skirting her terrier token.

"Do you realize what we've been doing for like the past hour?" Elena asked.

"Discovering your true calling as a loan shark?" Damon said as he landed on Indiana Avenue, a spot he owned.

"We just had an entirely normal conversation. Like a real couple. No life or death decisions, no one got bitten or kidnapped, and no one even said the 'v' word," Elena said, marveling. It had been so long since Elena had felt like a regular person that it was strange now to only worry about how much rent she'd have to pay Damon when she landed on St. Charles Place. Oh, she knew that there were plenty of other things she _should _be worrying about. Impending doom at immortal hands, the nefarious plans of witches, her grieving friends, her distant brother, but here with him, hours away from Mystic Falls, she could forget, just for a little while, and be happy.

Damon looked at her and smiled, a genuine look of delight spreading across his features. That was a rare occurrence, too, and she always treasured his true smile, the one he saved just for her. "So we did. A guy could get used to this," he said.

"Think I could, too. One day," she sighed, nudging her piece onto Connecticut Avenue.

"Finally. That'll be $120, though I also accept...alternative forms of payment," Damon said, wiggling his eyebrows. She laughed, starting to count out the papery bills, but he placed his hand on the stack of money, face suddenly serious. "That day could be today, Elena. We don't have to go back."

"Knew I shouldn't have said anything. So much for normal," she said.

"I'm serious. There's nothing stopping us. Ditch the car, get some fake papers, cross over the border and never be seen or heard from again. A fresh start," he said.

For so long, she'd resisted every time he'd mentioned fleeing. But being with him now, seeing how it could be when they were together as two people instead of as vampire and doppelganger, when they were just Elena and Damon instead of a Gilbert and a Salvatore, it was tempting to leave it all behind. When they weren't fighting over what extreme measures they'd been forced to take to save the other, they made a good team. If every day could be like this, one long stretch of laughter and simple pleasures, wasn't she crazy to go back to a world of blood and pain?

"Could you do it? Could you just leave them all? Stefan, Ric, Liz?" Elena asked. "Because what you're proposing...we could never talk to them again. Never call, never visit. It'd be too dangerous for them, never mind the risks for us."

"_Never _is a long time. A lot can change," he said.

"That wasn't what I asked," Elena said gently.

He rolled the dice between his palms, gaze fixed on some spot on the game board. "I dunno. Maybe. You're not going to say yes, so it doesn't really matter," he said, that cold facsimile of a smile creeping across his face again.

"It _does_ matter," Elena pressed. "When you came to Mystic Falls, did you ever really believe you could love anyone besides Katherine?"

"I don't know. I hadn't in a long time," he allowed.

"And now you actually have to think about who you'd leave behind. That's huge," she said. She scooted around the board to sit beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. He curled an arm around her. "There have to be other people in our lives. It can't just be the two of us forever. Besides the fact that we'd probably kill each other, that's just not healthy."

"And I _am _the poster child for mental health," he said wryly.

"Stop that. You always put yourself down," Elena said.

"It's called self-deprecation. Some people find it endearing," he countered.

"Well, it is, but not if you really believe it. There are _lots _of good things about you," Elena insisted.

His fingers traced through her hair, starting at her crown and trailing through the long strands. "I guess there must be some redeeming quality, since you choose to stick with me."

"Loyalty. Sense of humor. An endless supply of plans, some of which work better than others." He snorted. "Your own unique brand of compassion, though you'll never admit it," she said.

"All that, huh?"

"Plus, you do that thing with your tongue where you-" Elena started, but Damon stopped her with a demonstration, kissing her hungrily. "Yeah, that's the one. That's a pretty good redeeming quality, too."

Damon chuckled, tugging her into his lap. "All right. There are a couple of decent things about me. And you're right...it would be hard to leave some of the people back in Mystic Falls. You have to admit though, it's nice to think about."

"It is. And we'll get there. We have to believe that. But first, we have to finish it with the Originals," she said.

"No more cold feet about Elijah?" he asked.

"He tried to kill Stefan. It's his fault Bonnie's mom is dead—he used you as a weapon instead of doing his own dirty work. He had to know how it would all play out the instant he took Stefan," Elena said. The more she thought about Elijah's role in the horrible events of the past day, the angrier and angrier she got. Elijah had played them all, had known all about Damon's redeeming qualities and had used them, knowing Damon could never let his brother die. And Abby and Bonnie had to pay the price for Damon's loyalty.

"Yeah, so much for being the moral brother, huh?" Damon said. "At least Klaus does his own heart ripping."

"Yeah. So, no, the time for cold feet is long over. They all have to go. It's the only way any of us have a future."

"Mm. While I love it when you get all vengeance-y, let's not talk about them. They'll be waiting for us in Mystic Falls in a day or two. Probably something new, too—maybe Bigfoot's real." He pressed his lips to her cheek before trailing downwards, along her jaw, down her neck.

"You're trying to distract me from the game," Elena said. "Just can't stand to get your ass kicked by a girl, huh?"

"Caught me," Damon said, his hand creeping up under her shirt, fingers brushing against her stomach. "How's it working?"

Elena snagged Damon's wrist and pressed the dice into his hand. "You'll owe me fifteen hundred dollars if you land on Park Place. Roll the dice."


	44. Wanted

They fell silent when they saw the sign. A moment before, they'd been laughing, teasing each other about their taste in music. ("Don't you listen to any music that was made after 1990?" "Nope. Managed to miss Hanson, the Spice Girls, and LMFAO that way. That makes it a winning strategy."), but the jokes died on their lips as the blue sign came into view. Such an innocuous sign, really- cheerful, with an ugly drawing of a cardinal perched on a dogwood branch. "Welcome to Virginia," it read in overindulgent script. It was familiar, it was welcoming, it was home. It made Elena want to beg Damon to turn the car around.

The past three days hadn't been perfect, but they'd come pretty damn close. Lazy mornings lying in bed, watching the sunlight move across the ceiling; pleasant afternoons when Elena coaxed Damon out for hikes in the rolling hills; endless evenings spent under blankets on the terrace, watching the stars. And always through it all, there was laughter and a feeling of such rightness.

Oh, they'd bickered, of course. Never would get away from that. They fought about Bonnie, they fought about Stefan, they fought about her turning. Nothing new, just covering the same old painful ground over and over again. But after they'd both stormed away, slammed a few doors, they always came back together and laughed again—with each other, at themselves.

The world wouldn't leave them entirely alone. There had been multiple phone calls every day from Stefan, from Caroline, from Ric. Abby was dealing with her new life as best she could, but it was rocky. "It's harder to turn when you're older," Damon had explained. "That's why you don't see many vampires who were turned over forty. Lot of them just can't deal with such a big change." Bonnie had withdrawn into herself, Caroline said, isolated and full of quiet rage. She'd argued that Damon and Elena should stay away, but they couldn't. At some point, they'd have to face Bonnie. And Elena owed it to her friend. She owed her an apology and an explanation and whatever help Bonnie needed from her. It wasn't safe; the risks were huge. But they couldn't stay away any longer.

The Originals were still a threat. Much of the family had scattered, leaving only Klaus and Rebekah behind in Mystic Falls, but those two were danger enough. Ric read her a note Elijah had left for her—some nonsense about her endless compassion and how he'd done things he regretted and on and on in endless moralizing bullshit. Elena asked Ric to burn the letter.

"Don't say we can turn around. Just don't. Please," Elena said as they left the blue sign in the dust. If he asked now, Elena wasn't sure she could say no. Not after seeing how life could be together. The very thought of leaving her friends, of leaving her _family _in Mystic Falls behind was both traitorous and tempting.

"I won't. We're going." He sighed as the radio station dissolved into static, turning the dial in a vain attempt to find anything that wasn't country music or fire and brimstone preaching. "If possible, I _would _like to move out of my hometown sometime prior to my two hundredth birthday, though."

Elena did some quick math. About thirty years. "God, I hope so. For my sake."

"So we're agreed, then: We have one mission back in Mystic Falls. Well, two. Mission one is always staying the fuck alive. Mission two is killing Klaus and any other bonus Originals we can take with us," Damon said.

"Yeah, I think everything we need to do falls into one of those categories," Elena said. Sure, there were other things that were important—helping Bonnie and Abby, finding out who'd killed the M.E. and Bill and who'd tried to kill Ric, but mostly those fell under the "staying alive" heading. "Now we just have to figure out how to do it."

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that," Damon said. He gave up on the radio, jabbing it off with one knuckle. "Sometimes I hate living in the South. Not a single classic rock station. Probably think it's the devil's music."

"You'd been thinking? About killing Klaus?" Elena reminded him.

"Oh, right. So if they're all bound together already, what was the point of the spell Esther was trying to cast?"

Elena frowned. "I don't know. Bonnie never told me. But that is kinda weird, because Esther specifically told me that their fates were tied together now, so whatever happened to one of them would happen to all of them."

"Huh. And we know that Originals can't be staked and that daggers just mean nap time for them, but what about decapitation? Aren't many things that can survive without a head. Or my personal favorite—de-hearting," Damon said, a cold smile lighting his face, that maniacal gleam in his eyes. A shiver ran up Elena's spine. She knew how strongly Damon felt joy in the hunt and the chase and the kill, but she preferred not to think about. She was definitely happier not seeing it written across his face.

"Because it'd be so easy to test that theory out," Elena said. "And what if you're wrong?"

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained," Damon said. He was silent as he gunned the engine, zipping past a poky minivan. "But testing it might be easier than you'd think."

"What are you talking about? You couldn't even get close enough to Klaus to shake his hand, let alone rip his heart out," Elena said.

"Klaus, no. But I could get _pretty _close to Rebekah," Damon said, eyes drifting off the road to watch her reaction.

"Close to Rebekah? You mean—oh." How close would Damon need to get to Rebekah to rip her heart out? How distracted would she need to be for him to try? What would her wrath be like if it didn't work? "No. Not happening."

"Unless you want to send Caroline in to snuggle with Klaus, I'm not sure what other options we have," Damon said.

Elena gripped the door handle, fingers tightening until they ached. "I could go to Elijah. I told you about that note. He feels guilty, I can throw him off guard."

"And then what? You're going to reach into his ribcage and yank his heart out? You can't physically do that," Damon said.

He had a point. "We'll get Katherine to do it. She said she wants them dead; she'd do it."

"No, she said she wanted _Klaus _dead. She and Elijah have a past, and I don't know all the details, but he knows her well, so he'd probably see right through her. Plus, we can't trust her with something like this. Homecoming was one thing, but this is totally different," Damon said. "And don't act like I'm doing this because of Rebekah; I don't want anything to do with her."

"Right. You looked _so _miserable that night at the bonfire. I'm sure going undercover in her pants would just be heartbreaking for you," Elena shot back. The very idea of them together—of the things he'd have to say to lure her close, of the way he'd have to look at her and touch her and maybe even kiss her and...no.

Elena caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. "Are you _smirking _at me right now? Really, Damon?" she asked incredulously.

"Sorry, involuntary reflex." But there it was again, a little grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But...I kinda like seeing you all jealous."

"Of course I'm jealous! She's gorgeous. And you two can bond over your love of old stuff. And she's a vampire. You wouldn't have to hold back with her, like you do with me," she said, staring out the window. The mountains were gentling, falling back into the soft hills that surrounded Mystic Falls. It wouldn't be long now; they'd be back by sunset.

"She's also an evil, venomous bitch who seems to have entered arrested development as a petulant teenager. And as for the vampire thing..." he shrugged. "Now that you're all aboard the vampire train, that'll solve itself eventually." He didn't deny it, though. Didn't deny that he wished he didn't have to check himself, that he could go full tilt. Elena's grip on the door handle tightened. "God, fucked that up, didn't I? It doesn't matter if you're human or vampire, Elena—_you're _the one I want. Not Rebekah. I don't even know where she's been," he joked.

Elena mustered a smile. It was nice reassurance, but she wasn't positive she believed him. "Good. You're still not doing it, though. It's too big a risk, all grossness of you making out with Rebekah aside."

Damon slapped the turn signal on as he moved toward the right lane. "Mystic Falls, Next Exit," the sign informed them. "There's gonna be risk, Elena. Everything with these fuckers involves risk. And better me than you."

"We'll talk about it, okay? Let's just leave it at that. We're not going to do anything tonight anyway. I've got to go see Bonnie, and I know you're anxious to see Stefan," Elena said, trying to placate him. There was no way in hell she was letting him get within fifty feet of Rebekah, but they didn't need to fight now. Tonight was going to be hard enough as it was.

"Don't know that _anxious _is the right word," Damon grumbled. "But Stefan's having...issues. As usual. Eating himself up with guilt when _I'm _the one who did something wrong, not him."

"But you did it to save him. You knew this would happen—you had to know," Elena said gently. After all, Stefan had spent centuries agonizing over the sins Damon had committed, all because he thought he was responsible for his brother turning. Which, yeah, he kinda was, but Damon was a big boy, and he'd made his own decisions.

"Can we just enjoy our last few minutes together without talking about him? Or Rebekah? Or anyone?" Damon asked as he drove down the ramp toward Route 4, the road that would take them back into the nightmare of Mystic Falls.

Elena grasped his hand. "You know what you said about how I'm the only one you want? Ditto."

He smiled. "Love you too, Elena."

* * *

><p>"I still don't think it's a great idea," Caroline warned. "She's been really, really weird lately. Hardly talks to anyone except her mom. She doesn't even talk to <em>me<em>. I just think she still needs more time. Can you at least give it until tomorrow?"

"No, Caroline, I can't. Look, I'm already here. I won't stay if she doesn't want me, but I have to see her," Elena said as she climbed out of the car. Damon had dropped her at home, and after a brief chat with Ric, who was on his way out the door to meet Meredith, Elena had made the drive to Bonnie's. It was time to admit her part in what had happened, apologize, and do whatever she could to make this easier on Bonnie. It was what she _should_ have been doing from the start.

"Just...be careful, okay? I mean, she's not going to do anything to _you, _but she's not really herself," Caroline said.

"I know. But we'll get through this. If the three of us could weather you turning, we can deal with this," Elena said. "I gotta go. Call you later?"

"Yep. Love you, girl. Tell Bonnie I love her, too."

"You got it. Bye, Care." Elena tossed her phone into her purse and walked up the drive. The house was dark, curtains drawn against the night, no light spilling onto the lawn. But Caroline had assured her that Abby had moved in with Bonnie rather than staying at that fleabag motel. They must be here. Elena rang the bell.

It was quiet in the house—no footsteps, no dishwasher running or heater humming. Too quiet. The door opened a crack, but she couldn't see in. It was too dark, the person standing in the shadows. "Hello, Elena," a voice said.

"Hey, Abby. How're you doing?" Elena asked. She cringed when she heard her voice. Unintentionally, she'd used that awful tone, that voice reserved for dealing with children and invalids and the bereaved. She hated that voice; had heard enough of it to last her a lifetime. The last thing Abby would want was pity, especially from her.

"They told me you'd gone. You and...him," Abby said. Her voice shook, her face still hidden in darkness.

"I came back. Damon's back, too, but he isn't here right now. I wanted to see how you and Bonnie were doing," Elena said, trying to sound casual. "Is Bonnie around?"

"She's sleeping," Abby said. "She's been working so hard to take care of me, but she needed to rest."

"Oh. I can come back tomorrow. Is there anything you need, Abby? Anything I can do for you?" Elena asked. God, she wanted to see Bonnie. Even if her friend wouldn't speak to her, she needed to know she was all right.

"Well, there is one thing," Abby said. She pulled the door open, the dim glow of the porch light illuminating her face, the tracery of veins standing out in stark relief against her dark skin.

Elena screamed and turned to run, but it was too late. Abby grasped her with inhuman strength and mauled her neck like a mad dog.


	45. Lost

Elena was no stranger to being bitten by vampires. When Klaus had bitten her, it had been impersonal, almost dainty. He hadn't been biting her to feed, or even out of malice. He simply needed her dead. When Stefan had bitten her that horrible night at the high school, there had been hunger and pain, but still a practiced edge to the bite, two neat circular holes in her neck. And when Damon had bitten her...well, that had been a maestro playing his instrument, an experience she only half remembered but which combined all-consuming pleasure with intense pain, all wrapped in a deathly shroud.

When Abby bit her, it was like being attacked by a wild, savage beast. These weren't tidy puncture wounds—Abby was trying to _tear _the blood out of her, ripping the skin from her flesh to access the hot, vital blood underneath. Sickly sounds of sucking and squelching echoed in the air. And it hurt. A lot. Elena didn't scream; she bellowed, a sound of rage and pain bursting from her belly and shattering the deathly quiet night. Abby was messy and out of control, but Elena couldn't budge the newly fledged vampire. _So this is how I'm going to die,_ Elena thought faintly. _Stupidly and for no reason. Not because I'm the doppelganger. _It was almost poetic, in a way.

Her hands groped feebly for a weapon, to shove Abby away, but she just couldn't. The vampire's strength was a hundred times more than her small frame suggested, and she could not be moved. Just as darkness began swimming at the edge of her vision and her knees began to buckle, she and Abby were thrown to the ground. That hurt, too. A lot. Stars exploded across the darkness as Elena's head cracked against the pavement. Vaguely, she was aware of bodies moving, grunts of pain, the _smack _of flesh on flesh. Then a woman crying.

Footsteps tromped in and out of the house. The door slammed shut. Voices. Elena tried to sit up, but the world spun alarmingly and she fell back to the ground, pillowing her cheek on the rough, cold concrete. Minutes or hours could have passed; Elena only knew the cold and the pain, a roar in her neck, a throb in her head. But eventually, Stefan was there, kneeling at her side, pulling her bloody hair away from the mangled mess of her neck and shoulder.

"God. Elena, can you hear me? Everything's gonna be okay, Elena," Stefan said. He didn't _sound _like everything was going to be okay though; he sounded like she was laying on the ground bleeding from a major artery. Why did he always lie about things like this?

"Bonnie?" Where was her friend? Bonnie never would have left her mother alone. Had Abby feasted on her own daughter before moving on to the second course? If Stefan could kill his father, surely Abby could kill the daughter she'd abandoned for so long. The thought of Bonnie cold and dead was worse than the pain that racked her body.

"Fine. Waking up. Thought she didn't need to take vervain, that her powers would protect her from any vamp trying to compel her. She learned differently," Stefan said. He wiped blood away from her neck to get a better look at her ruined flesh, and Elena cried out.

"Damon," Elena pleaded. More than anything, she wanted him here. Why was Stefan here? Where had he come from? It was always Damon who was there when she needed him; why Stefan now?

"There isn't time for him to get here, Elena." His teeth crunched into the blood-rich flesh of his arm, and red droplets dripped onto the pavement in front of Elena's eyes.

"I'll be fine." Her lips were numb, and the words tasted strange in her mouth.

"You have to drink, Elena. You have to drink or you'll die. The blood..there's a lot of blood here," Stefan said, his voice tender and frightened and weak.

Even in her present state, Elena had to appreciate the irony. Only a few weeks before, he'd shoved that same blood down her throat as she'd screamed and screamed and pleaded for her life. Now when that same blood actually could _save _her, he hesitated. There was no wrist jammed against her mouth, no unwanted blood trickling down her throat. Now when he could save her, he chose to play the gentleman. She started to laugh, but it ended in a painful dry cough that sent fresh lances of pain through her body.

"Okay," she said. Not for him. None of this was for him. And if there had been any other choice, she never would have gotten anywhere near a drop of Stefan's blood again. But she knew if she died because of this, Damon would find a way to haul her ghost back to this side of the veil just so he could kick her ass for being so stubborn. The blood was cold and bitter, thinner than Damon's. _Bunnies,_ she thought with a giggle as the blood dripped into her mouth._ It's thinner because of the bunnies. _

After Stefan withdrew his wrist, it was a few moments until the blood took its effect, until she felt vitality seeping back into her body and her shredded flesh begin to mend. After a few more moments, she could sit upright. Stefan had been right; there was a _lot _of blood. No wonder Abby was so hungry—she'd spilled most of her dinner. Abby. Her heart sank.

"You didn't stake Abby, did you?" Elena asked. What had happened hadn't been Abby's fault. How could she be expected to control the hunger? She'd never asked for this, and Elena didn't blame her. But more than that, she didn't know what would happen to Bonnie if her mother died a true death before they'd had a chance to make things right.

But Stefan shook his head. "Vervain. Locked her down in the basement. It won't hold her if she wakes up, but I'll talk to her. Hopefully this was just a..lapse in judgment."

Elena nodded. In a way, it was better that Stefan had found her. If it had been Damon, he almost certainly would have killed Abby. While Bonnie might be able to forgive him for killing her mother _once,_ twice was pushing it for anyone. "How did you find me?"

"I was coming to see Abby. I've been helping her, since she turned. I thought we were getting somewhere, that she was gonna be okay, but..." Stefan smiled bitterly, pushing himself to his feet. "That was stupid of me. Of all people, _I_ should understand the draw of human blood." He offered her a hand up, and Elena hesitated only a second before she took it, rising unsteadily. "I'd offer to drive you home, but I need to-"

"You need to stay with Abby. I'm not going, anyway—I need to see Bonnie," Elena said. She glanced down at her clothes. She was pretty sure this shirt had been blue this morning. Now it was almost black. Great. Not exactly how she'd wanted to face Bonnie, but the girl was going to need a friend now more than ever.

"I don't know that that's a great idea, Elena. She's having a hard time coping. She shouldn't have to see her mother like this. You should have let me die, Elena." His eyes glistened in the darkness, and Elena suddenly realized what Damon's cryptic comments had meant. "My brother tried to do the noble thing," he'd said. "I even left him a few squirrels," he'd said. Why would a Stefan with no emotions sacrifice himself? Why would he need squirrels when he'd been living on human blood for months? Because they were all lies. Because Stefan was detoxing, and his switch was on. Somehow, he'd found the courage to feel again. Elena admired him immensely for that, but almost wished it wasn't true. Because what she was going to tell him now was going to hurt. A lot.

Elena rested one bloodied hand on his cheek. The gesture was familiar but wrong, like hearing a favorite song sung in a different key. "I didn't want to save you, Stefan. I wanted to let you go." His head dropped low, dislodging her hand. "I couldn't let an innocent person die to keep you alive." She insistently pulled his chin back up, forcing him to meet her eyes. "But your brother loves you. And he couldn't let you go. He knew you'd hate him—and yourself—for this. But he loves you enough to let you hate him."

Stefan pulled away from her, and her fingers trailed off along his cheek. "You love him." There was such certainty in his voice, such fatalistic acceptance in his eyes. "I've really lost you this time."

Elena smiled, surprised to find tears in her own eyes. "We lost each other."

Stefan took a few steps away, staring up at the night sky. He turned back to her, as if to speak, then shook his head and walked into the Bennett house.

Something within Elena shifted, eased. Stefan's pain was obvious and excruciating. Maybe once, she'd wanted to see him suffer for what he'd done to her, but now, seeing how hard he was trying to claw his way back to himself, to the genuinely good person he'd once been, she couldn't wish him misery. Now, she just wanted him to find the same kind of peace Damon had found. But she was glad to put the final period in the chapter of Stefan and Elena. Those two people who'd once loved each other blindly, never truly knowing the other, were gone. One day, maybe they could be friends. One day, maybe Stefan could accept the fierce love Damon felt for him.

But that day wasn't today. Today, Elena had to go to Bonnie, had to try to make this right. She walked into the house.


	46. Burned

Elena had never liked Bonnie's house. Hadn't been there much, really. Bonnie had never wanted to hang out at home when they were kids. Maybe it was too quiet without a mother there, or maybe it was just that Elena had the best backyard and Caroline had the best toys. Whatever the reason, the house had always given Elena a disquieted feeling. Now, when it was dark and contained the vampire who'd just tried to rip her throat out and the vampire she'd just officially broken up with, she _really _didn't like it. Distantly, Elena heard clanking chains and muffled dragging noises. She shuddered, but did her best to put them out of her mind. Let Stefan deal with Abby; she was here for Bonnie.

She found her friend sitting on her bed. And she looked like hell. Hair a mess, deep, dark circles under her eyes, a thousand yard stare that saw everything and nothing. Dull eyes raised to Elena as she crossed the threshold.

"Hey," Elena said. _Sorry my boyfriend killed your mom to save my ex-boyfriend. Kinda awkward. Wanna go get a milkshake at the Grill?_ How the hell did you start a conversation like this? Elena had played out a thousand scenarios for this, but right now, they all fled. "How are-"

"Don't." The clipped word was more painful than Abby's bite. "Don't you dare ask me how I am."

It wasn't that Elena hadn't been expecting this kind of reaction; of course she had. It didn't matter that she'd wanted to let Stefan die rather than hurt Abby. For better or worse, she and Damon were a matched set now. When he did things like this, there were consequences for her. Maybe that's what being a couple was all about. But not being able to comfort her friend, not being able to hug her and console her and just _be her friend, _hurt.

"Bonnie, I'm so sorry. About everything," Elena started. The words were inadequate, but she had to try. Bonnie never gave her the chance.

"Sorry? You're sorry your psychotic boyfriend murdered my mother? Seriously, Elena? Why are you even here? It's not like you care about me or anyone else now."

"That's not true. I wanted to come to you right after...right after it happened. I wanted to see you and try to make it right. But Caroline wouldn't let me, and then Damon-"

"Don't say his name. You made your choice, Elena, and now I'm making mine." Bonnie took a deep breath, and Elena felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. "You were my best friend." Were. Past tense. Elena's legs sagged suddenly, and she gripped the edge of Bonnie's dresser to remain upright. "And that's the only reason I'm not killing him. But we? We're done. We're strangers now. I don't want to see you, I don't want your help or your apologies or your pity."

There had never been a time when Elena hadn't been best friends with Bonnie. Elena even had adorable pictures of the two of them sprawled on soft baby blankets together. And now Bonnie was going to cut her out of her life like she'd never existed. Strangers. "You don't mean that. Bonnie-"

"I want you to go. And I don't want you to come back." Her words were steely and quiet, with no room for argument. Elena wished she would have screamed at her, slapped her, hurt her. Anything would have been better than this terrible chill.

"I'll go." Her legs still unsteady, Elena teetered to the door. But she turned back. "But I won't stop being your friend. If you don't want to see me, you won't. But I'll never stop being there for you. When you need me, I'll be here."

There was no answer. She hadn't expected one.

* * *

><p>Elena somehow drove home through the veil of tears that clouded her vision. Damon's car sat in the driveway. Dammit. If he saw her coming in like this, covered in blood and drowning in tears, this night would turn even more awful than it already was, if that was possible. His temper and his protectiveness and his vengeance would ruin everything. And Elena couldn't deal with that. She just couldn't. Maybe she should go to the boarding house and get cleaned up and come back when she looked presentable so at least she wouldn't have to tell him when she was dripping with her own blood. But Damon would have heard the car pull up. She sat in the darkness, frozen with indecision.<p>

Headlights pierced the night. A moment later, Ric's concerned face peered into her window. Elena made a circular motion with her hand, and Ric came around to the passenger's side, sliding into the seat next to her. "Holy fuck, are you hurt?"

She wiped at her cheeks, trying to brush the tears away, but they just wouldn't stop falling. She knew Ric had no defense against a crying girl, but she couldn't help it. "Not anymore. V-vampire blood."

"I better go get Damon." He started to climb out of the car, but Elena grabbed his arm.

"Not yet. I just...I just need a minute. He's gonna freak when he sees me like this, and I just need a minute," she pleaded.

Ric didn't look happy about the idea, but he shut the car door. "Do we need to go kill anyone?"

A coughing little laughing fit clawed its way out of her. It wasn't funny; there was nothing funny about any of this. "Not tonight."

"Damon may see things differently, but I'll take your word for it." They both watched the darkness. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." She didn't. She really, really didn't. How could she tell him that she'd lost Bonnie? What had Damon called Stefan? His north star. Bonnie had been her constant, her moral compass and her friend and her confidant. Elena had always expected they'd be college roommates, be the maids of honor for each other, and take pictures of their own smiling babies. And now, she might as well have been dead.

"Okay." Elena was grateful for his quiet presence beside her, for his trust in her ability to handle the situation. They sat together, the quiet punctuated only by Elena's hiccups and sniffles. But slowly, her tears began to dry. There just weren't any more left inside her. Ric's hand rested gently on her shoulder. "You know, I've got a bottle of Chivas hidden away. I bet I could buy you long enough to shower and get changed with the promise of some descent whiskey."

Elena gave a watery smile. "You're the best." She leaned across the console, kissing his cheek. "Thank you. I'm glad you stayed."

Ric patted her shoulder again. "Me too. Most days. Me too. Give me five minutes, then come in through the back."

The plan worked. Almost. Freshly showered, Elena was trying to sneak out of her bedroom with the armful of bloody clothes when Damon walked up the stairs. He stopped dead as he rounded the corner, staring at the bundle in her arms. "I can explain," Elena said.

"Shit. I knew Ric would never bust out the good stuff without a reason. _Idiot_." He slapped his forehead with his palm. He tore his eyes from the ruined clothes to her face, still splotchy and red. "You've been bleeding _and _crying. What the hell did that bitch do to you?" He seized her chin, turning her head this way and that, looking for marks, looking for blood. "I'm going rip that self-righteous little-"

"Bonnie didn't hurt me." Not true. "Bonnie didn't make me bleed. She wouldn't do that. And you aren't going to go anywhere near her. Do you hear me?" Damon shot her a petulant look, his upper lip curling. "I'm not kidding. You have to promise me."

"No deal. I have to know what happened before I can give her a get out of jail free card," he said. That was fairly fucked up, but Elena was too tired to argue with him.

"Just let me get rid of this and we'll talk. I'll tell you everything, okay?" Elena said, trying to keep her voice soft and soothing. She just didn't want to deal with an unhinged, pissed off Damon. Not tonight.

"Forget that." He pulled the clothes from her unresisting hands and let them fall to the ground before taking her in his arms. She buried her face in his shoulder. No more crying. She wasn't going to cry again. Shit, she was crying.

Damon lifted her off her feet, carrying her to the bed and slipping her between the sheets. He lay beside her as she fumbled for the Kleenex box at her bedside, desperately wiping at the tears. She had to be strong.

"It's okay. You can let go. You're safe," Damon said.

Oh, was that ever the best and worst thing he could have said at that moment. The shower of tears turned into a monsoon, and she clung to him, a sobbing, soggy mess. Slowly, she revealed the story to him. Abby's attack. Stefan the savior. Bonnie's rejection. He didn't interrupt her for once, let her get the story out in her own time.

"I didn't think I'd lose Bonnie. Not like this. We were—we were supposed to be the little old ladies at the nursing home racing each other in wheelchairs," Elena hiccuped.

Damon shifted, resting his chin on top of her head. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry you have to pay for what I did."

So was she. She didn't want it to be like this, but it was. "I knew what I was getting into when we started this. But this, with Bonnie...it's been a long time coming." Ever since Bonnie had made feathers float through the air and Elena had fallen in love with the walking dead, things had been changing between them. _They_'_d _changed. Grams' death, Bonnie's Founders Day betrayal, their battle against Klaus, Elena's love affair with Damon...It had all been coming. This was just the final nail in the coffin. But it still sucked. "Now will you promise me you won't hurt her? More than that—you'll leave her alone?" He didn't answer. Minutes stretched on and on, and still he didn't answer. "Damon."

"She hurt you. She tried to kill me. She's a loose cannon. At any time, she could decide that _you're _the real problem. It's too dangerous." His arms tightened around her, but she pushed him away, anger lancing through her pain. This was why she hadn't wanted to tell him. She knew he'd pull something like this.

"You're talking about killing my best friend. Do you even hear yourself? This isn't cute, this isn't funny, this isn't protective. You are talking about _murder_." Elena had always believed that vampires had a different code of ethics. But did they really? Caroline didn't. Caroline had killed after she'd first transitioned, and she'd killed to save herself, but never with pleasure, never for revenge. And Stefan, when he was clean and sober, valued human life. But Damon didn't. Maybe it wasn't some fundamental flaw in vampires—maybe it was some missing piece of Damon.

"Self defense, Elena. Did you miss the part where she blamed you for things that weren't your fault? Or the part where she has a thousand dead witches backing her up? Look, if she wants to melt my brain or set me on fire, that's one thing. But when she starts getting you involved-"

"She hasn't. Abby did, and it was an accident. But you can't try to kill everyone who hurts my feelings. People just don't act like that."

"One of these days, you're going to have to accept that I'm not a _person_." His voice was rife with loathing, thick and smothering. Elena reached for him. Monster or no, all she wanted was to soothe that awful pain. But he caught her wrist before she could touch him. "No. You shouldn't have to comfort me. Not tonight. I won't go anywhere near either of them. They get a reprieve. This time. No guarantees going forward."

That was going to have to be good enough, for tonight at least. "I don't want to hurt her, Damon. Not now, not ever. I just want her back." Her voice shook. God, she just wanted her best friend back.

His fingers brushed her neck, ghosting over the flesh that had been torn and ragged and bloody scarce hours before. Elena shivered. "People come and go through your life. It's just part of it. You and Bonnie are walking different roads now."

"That was deep, Damon," she murmured sleepily, burrowing her head against his chest. He smelled like home.

His chest heaved with laughter. "Don't know about that, but I have a little experience in that department. I'm an expert at burning bridges. I'm just sorry I burned yours."

"I'm sorry it's burned. I'm not sorry about you. I love you, no matter what you are." Elena never thought she'd be able to sleep after the night she'd had. But her eyelids were heavy, and in Damon's arms, she knew that things would turn out all right. Somehow. Probably.

"You too. More than you know." His lips brushed her hair. "Go to sleep, everything will look brighter in the morning."

As sleep dragged her down, she prayed he was right.


	47. Accepted

_Hey guys! Miss me? Good to be back with this little story. Even though the show is finally back from its cruel hiatus, "Consumed" won't be returning to daily updates. That real life thing has caught up with me. But don't worry, we'll still update a couple times a week. For now, how do the events of 1912 affect our lovebirds? Well..._

* * *

><p>Elena pulled the pillow over her face. It was too bright, too loud, and too early. Damon's phone wouldn't shut up. "Make it stop," she moaned. Even with the dose of vampire blood Stefan had given her, she was still sore and stiff, her neck cricked and her head throbbing. And his phone just kept vibrating, his fingers tapping and tapping on the keys.<p>

"Sorry. Baby brother drama," Damon said.

That got her attention. She peeked out from under the pillow. She hated Stefan's pain. She was proud he was brave enough to feel, but now he had all those emotions, all that guilt and pain, and then she'd been selfish enough to add to it last night by telling him once and for all that it was always going to be _Damon_...well, Elena didn't take any joy in that.

"It's not because of you," Damon reassured her. "Well, not only. That's just part of it. But he's not doing so well." He sighed, tossing the phone onto the nightstand and burying his face in the crook of her neck. She stroked his hair, scouring her brain, trying to decide if there had been any way to avoid inflicting that pain on Stefan last night. But there hadn't been any getting around it. The sooner she got out of his heart and made it clear that they could never be together again, the sooner he might be able to heal and move on.

"What can I do to help?" she asked. It wasn't like she'd flipped a switch on Stefan, that she didn't still care for him in spite of everything, in spite of the bridge.

"You? Nothing. The best thing you can do is stay away," he said.

"Do I really screw things up that badly? Would everyone be better off if I just stayed away?" Elena couldn't fight the sick feeling that was growing in the pit of her stomach. Jeremy had been better off halfway across the country; Bonnie never wanted to see her again, and she couldn't do anything to help Stefan. She was weak and useless.

"What? No! That's not what I meant," Damon said, pulling her close. "Everybody's just got...issues, right now. And yeah, a lot of Stefan's have to do with you. Understandably. And Stefan's also having _issues_ with anyone with a functioning circulatory system, so it's an even worse idea for you to be anywhere near him."

Logically, she knew Damon was right. But that didn't make it any easier to accept that so many people in her life didn't want or need her anymore. She couldn't think about that right now. Couldn't. Focus on Stefan, focus on doing something useful. "So he's off human blood again. He told me...he told me that last time, it took him thirty years to get his head back on straight after his Ripper binge," she said.

"Yeah. It was a shitty thirty years, too," Damon said, staring up at the ceiling, his thoughts a million miles and half a century away.

"Did you...see him then? Did you help him?" Elena asked hesitantly. She knew the brothers hadn't seen each other in a long time before they'd come back to Mystic Falls, but she didn't know all the details. It really wasn't her business, anyway.

He didn't answer right away. "I kept tabs on him." Elena let it go. There were things she still didn't tell Damon, after all. She didn't need to know everything. Damon sighed, giving her one last squeeze before sliding out of bed. "I hate to leave you. But-"

"Go. He's your brother, Damon. And he needs you right now," Elena said. It was tempting to pull the pillow back over her face and try to steal a few more moments of sleep, but she had things to do today. She pulled herself out of bed with a little groan.

"I dunno about that, but he needs someone. And right now, I'm all he's got," Damon said. He was pawing through the little overnight bag he'd brought to the Gilbert house. "But before I go, I have something for you."

"You know I hate it when you—is that _blood_?" Elena said as Damon turned back toward her. Sure enough, he was holding a tiny glass container of thick, red liquid dangling from a chain. Elena's stomach roiled.

"I know, I know. It's a little Billy Bob and Angelina, but you-_we-_ got lucky last night. If Stefan hadn't been there..." Damon shook his head. "Just take it."

It was disgusting. It was wrong. If he really wanted to keep her safe, he'd do what she'd asked and just turn her already. But he was also right. Damn him, he was right a lot. She took the creepy necklace and he smiled. "Thank you. Now can you try to stay out of trouble for one day? Please?" he weedled.

Elena huffed. "I'm wearing this, but don't press your luck. Besides, trouble usually finds me."

"True." He kissed her. "I'll be back...sometime. I'll keep you posted."

"Promise me you'll stay out of trouble, too," Elena asked anxiously. He wasn't the _only _person she had, but...they were dropping like flies. "Promise me you'll stay safe."

But he just grinned. "No to the first, yes to the second. Love you."

Damon hadn't been gone for five minutes when her phone vibrated with a new text message. "Change of plans. Ric's in jail."

* * *

><p>Elena was no stranger to the Sheriff's Department. She'd been there with Caroline often enough, dropping by to ask her mom if they could go to the movies or if Caroline could spend the night. Then there were the less pleasant moments, when she'd filled out paperwork after the accident, when Sheriff Forbes had questioned her gently but thoroughly about that awful night. Or when the sheriff had picked Jeremy up for smoking a joint behind the Grill, but gave Elena a knowing look and told her to take her brother home and not to let it happen again. But she'd never been there before as a suspect, a perpetrator, a criminal.<p>

They were lucky Sheriff Forbes was letting them walk away. Breaking and entering was a serious crime, and Elena never would have forgiven herself if Matt had gotten caught because of her and wound up with a felony on his record. That could ruin all his hopes and dreams for a football scholarship that would take him away from Mystic Falls once and for all. But after Elena's disastrous confrontation with Meredith, where she'd spouted bald-faced lies about Ric (a history of fighting? A restraining order? No, that wasn't the Ric Elena knew), Matt had been the only person she trusted by her side. Dependable Matt, steady Matt, who always trusted her and was there at a moment's notice. And she'd repaid his loyalty by nearly ruining his future.

But the sheriff had let them walk, and Elena was glad. She'd even let them see Alaric for a moment, let them confirm he was okay, if shaken by the whole ordeal. How could he not be? How insane was all of this, for Ric to be accused of his own murder, when Meredith Fell had an entire closet full of incriminating evidence? Evidence that now could never be used in a court of law. Because of them.

The night air was bracing, the stars startling and bright against the clear, cold sky. Matt came to a halt beside her. "I'm sorry, Matt."

Matt gave that little half laugh of his, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "Why? I'm not."

Elena looked up at him in surprise. "I just talked you into breaking and entering into a psycho's house, got caught, and got you hauled down to the police station. How are you not sorry about that?"

The big man shrugged, unperturbed. "Maybe those parts weren't great. But you called me. And you let me help. No one ever does that anymore." He looked down at her. "I've missed you, Elena."

Elena had never loved Matt. Not romantically, not like she suspected he'd loved her. But there was no better man in the world to have as a friend than Matt Donovan. In some ways, she was sorry he'd been drawn into this world, but on the other hand, she was glad to have someone by her side who she could always, always trust to have her best interests at heart. "I've missed you too, Matt. Thanks. For everything."

The pair walked into the night, sneakers scuffing on the sidewalk. "Why do you think Dr. Fell wants to frame Mr. Saltzman?" Matt asked.

"Because she's crazy? I don't know. Something just isn't right about that woman." Elena sighed. "Poor Ric. He just can't win."

Matt considered this thoughtfully. "He had a good thing going with Jenna. That wasn't his fault, the way it ended. But I think when you're a vampire hunter, you have to accept that you're going to meet some crazy chicks."

Elena laughed. "Yeah, I guess you're right. But still-"

"That's enough!" There was an impact of bodies, and a familiar tang scented the breeze. Damon. Blood. She and Matt broke into a run, rounding the corner, but the scene in front of them didn't make sense. Damon kneeling over a blonde woman, delicate drips of blood in the corners of his mouth. Stefan, his eyes full of horror and hunger and need and sheer terror, scarlet staining the lower half of his face, his eyes bright and shining in the night.

"What are you doing?" Elena asked. That woman, was she dead? What were they doing? Stefan was supposed to be fighting his hunger, not killing random women on the street. None of this made sense. None of it. And Stefan's face, marred with the blood he'd tried so hard to refuse, to reject. "Stefan," she breathed.

Stefan tried futilely to wipe the blood from his face, but his hands trembled and there was too much. Even if he could have disposed of every drop, he couldn't hide the truth of what he'd done tonight.

"Elena," he whispered.

Had he just lost control? Had he been trying to fight the hunger, but it had overcome him, overwhelmed him? Then why was Damon here, looking distinctly annoyed at her presence? What did he have to do with all this?

"What are you two doing?" she demanded, staring at Damon. What had he done?

"Relax, Elena," he said, as if _she_ were the unreasonable one in all this. "Just a little experiment; let's not make this more dramatic than it needs to be."

"An _experiment_?" Elena cried. "Experiments don't end with dead bodies, Damon! How could you? How could you do this?"

Stefan had needed his brother, and his brother had failed him. Damon had refused to let her help, and now looking at Stefan, at the pain and guilt and ravenous hunger in his eyes, and Elena didn't know what would become of him. But Matt was there, his hand strong on her arm. "Elena. Let's just go," he said. But how could she go? How could she just walk away when this woman was dead and Stefan was broken and Damon was staring at her with such anger? "Elena!"

Matt was pulling her away, propelling her down the street away from the carnage. But Elena looked back over her shoulder, saw Damon scooping the motionless woman up in his arms.

"One of these days, you're going to have to accept that I'm not a _person_," Damon had said. As she turned her back on him, she finally did.


	48. Denied

Matt set two mugs on the table, but Elena couldn't even sit down, let alone find any shallow creature comfort in the tea. She'd been naïve and stupid. Damon had been right all along. They'd been stupid, fooling themselves if they thought they could overcome the chasm between humanity and vampirism. Stupid.

That woman was dead and Elena had done nothing to save her. Stefan was even worse than before, suspended between two worlds, torn by his own dual nature, and all because of Damon. Everything was wrong, and even Matt was staring at her like she'd defected, like she was one of _them. _"Just say it," she said, pacing through the kitchen, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

"I don't get it. Your _thing _with them," Matt said, sinking into a chair. Just for a moment, Elena wished she really could have loved Matt. It would have been so easy being with him. The quarterback and the cheerleader, the high school sweethearts who went off to college together. Matt would find a good job selling insurance; Elena would work as a kindergarten teacher until they had children of their own, beautiful babies with her dark hair and his blue eyes. That was what she'd dreamed when she'd been sixteen. The road was so clear. Even now, looking at him, he was an island of normalcy in a swirling sea of insanity. Even now, she wished she could love him. But he deserved better than her, better than this town, better than this nightmare. She didn't deserve anyone as good as Matt Donovan.

"I never loved them because they were vampires. It all kinda happened in spite of that," Elena said. But something about that wasn't quite true. "Maybe at first, after my parents died, there was something about being with Stefan that...felt safe."

Matt's eyes widened in indignation, and Elena saw the hurt there. She hadn't let him keep her safe after her parents died. No, she'd pushed him further and further away until they stood in different worlds, unable to reach back for the other. "_Safe _? Elena, he's a vampire."

"I know. There's nothing safe about them. I know that now. But then...it seemed like he would never stop loving me. Like he would never..." Never what? What had it been that Stefan had been able to give her that Matt never had?

"What?" Matt asked.

"Never die." Logically, Elena should have run screaming when Tiki's grandad had told her about seeing Stefan in the '50s, when Stefan first showed her fangs. But being a vampire meant that he wouldn't—_couldn't_-leave her. Not like everyone else had, one by one. Of course, being drawn into that world that Stefan opened to her meant that she only lost more and more of the people she loved, became more and more dependent on these creatures who couldn't perish. But it was more than that.

Matt laughed softly. Finally he saw. Of course he couldn't compete with an endless, immortal love. "And Damon?"

Elena flung herself into the chair opposite Matt, finally letting her hands wrap around the warm mug. It helped, a little. How could she explain Damon? How could she explain that what she felt for him was irrational and terrifying but the truest thing she'd ever known? How could she explain how she could love him even after all this? Even after tonight? "Damon just sort of snuck up on me," she said. "He got under my skin, and no matter what I do, I can't shake him."

"Once you fall in love with someone, I don't know that you can ever shake them. But would you want to?" Matt asked. "Shake him, I mean. I thought you two were really serious."

Elena looked at her friend with new eyes. When had Matt gotten so perceptive? Had he always been able to see things so clearly, the eternal outsider? "Loving Damon was never a choice," Elena said. "Maybe it's because I'm the doppelganger; maybe it's in my blood to love him. I don't know. But I know that if I could have chosen differently...I would have." Who would ever choose something like this? Who would choose a love that demanded everything of her and gave so much pain in return for only stolen moments of happiness? Who would choose a love that hurt everyone around her, that hurt her very soul? Elena suspected that if she asked Damon, he'd answer the same. Why would he choose his brother's girl, the woman with Katherine's face? No sane person would do that. The sane person would choose someone good, someone kind, someone human. Someone like Matt. But Elena was pretty sure sanity didn't have anything to do with her life anymore. "I'm sorry. This is weird, talking about them with you."

But Matt just smiled and shook his head. "No. It's not. But I got you something." Elena fervently hoped it was not another vial of blood, and sure enough, it was much more mundane. A book. "It's your ancestor's journal. You should have it," he said.

Elena took the battered volume. "How did you manage to get this?" She flipped through the pages, but they seemed all wrong, the words written and overwritten in thick, black strokes, the words arranged in nonsensical patterns. Great. Another crazy Gilbert.

"Sometimes, it pays to be the only normal one in a town of vampires," he said with a self-deprecating smile. "I'm practically invisible."

"You're not invisible, Matt. I-" Whatever words she would've used to comfort him were broken off as the front door creaked open, and Alaric returned home.

* * *

><p>They welcomed Ric. Even in the few hours he'd been gone, Elena had missed him, his calm presence and his wry smiles and his gentle, good-natured wisdom. He was her family, part of a small, broken circle, and she was glad to have him back. Matt went home, and eventually Elena went to her room, intending to spend some quality time with Samantha Gilbert before before trying to snatch a few hours of sleep. What she was <em>not <em>going to do was call Damon and tell him that it was okay he'd killed that woman. That was what was not going to happen.

But Meredith came and pounded on the door and yelled and yelled. Ric refused to let her in, and eventually she went away and all was quiet. Then the Gilbert journal turned out to be nonsense, words overwritten and crabbed and insane and none of it made sense. Elena flung the journal down with a scowl and climbed out of bed. She was going to see him. _She _wasn't going to apologize—she was going to give him a piece of her mind. "I'm not a person."As if that was an excuse for anything.

The roads were empty, and the night was dark, but Elena could see the flickering of the fireplace through the windows of the boarding house. She stomped out of the car, storming her way towards the door, but Damon was there, blocking her path. She yelped, nearly plowing into him, but he steadied her. "You're late," he said. "I've been expecting you for hours."

"Oh, you've been here for _hours? _You can hide bodies so quickly now it doesn't even cut into your evening?" she snitted. "So where'd you hide her? The ravine, where you dumped Vicki? Or the quarry?"

"You mean the quarry where I hid your _brother's_ kill?" Damon sneered. "Don't you want to talk about who that hybrid was, a schmuck who had the lousy luck to get sire bonded to Klaus? Don't you want to talk about his hopes and dreams and his poor mommy who misses him very much?"

"That was different and you _know _it." No. Damon wasn't going to throw this back on her. He was the one who was in the wrong here. "Don't drag Jeremy into this. That hybrid was trying to kill us-"

"She's not dead," Damon said flatly. "Is that what you wanted to hear? Karen—that's her name, lovely girl- is fine. Sent her home with a bellyful of vampire blood and memories of having a little too much to drink. Happy now?"

That was better. A little better. But not much. "What the hell were you doing there in the first place? You know Stefan's not stable, and there you were having a brotherly _snack _on some innocent woman. How could you do that to your brother?"

"How could I-" Damon spun on his heel away from her, stalking a few steps before turning toward her again. "You don't know what you're talking about, Elena. Just have no fucking clue."

"Then explain it to me, Damon. Tell me that I didn't see what I saw. Make it make sense. I want to believe you." Elena desperately wanted there to be an acceptable explanation.

"How about this for an explanation: I'm a vampire. So's Stefan. What did you think I was? I was hungry so I took what I needed. It's a skill my sainted brother never mastered, so I was trying to help him," Damon said.

"Yeah, because Stefan cared enough to try not to hurt people. What, you couldn't just drink a blood bag? You had to go accost some woman in a dark alleyway? That's not-" Elena bit off the words. It wasn't _human_.

Damon laughed. The sound made her blood run cold. "Is that how you think being a vampire works, Elena? That you can get everything you need from a bag? Or you think Stefan's got it all figured out, with his furry smorgasbord? If Stefan's so fucking well adjusted, tell me why he tears people apart. Tell me why he can't control himself." He grasped her arms, giving her a little shake. "Do you think that's what _you'll _do when you turn? That you'll be like him? Because you can't be, Elena. I wouldn't let you. That isn't living. That's denying what it really means to be a vampire, to be _alive_."

Of course Elena thought that would be the path she walked. Of course Elena thought she'd live an existence without hurting people. And of course she thought that her love could change Damon, could make him see that he could live that way, too. "If not like Stefan, then like Caroline-"

"Caroline. Oh, Caroline. She tried the Bambi diet, tried the bag thing. But you know where her taste really runs? Soccer moms. Don't know what it is about them, but you should see her go. She's a force of nature. I _love _to hunt with her. Every night, when I slip out of bed, warm from your arms and into the darkness...God, it's beautiful. Come with us," he said with a feral smile, all fangs, veins swimming below his eyes. Elena wrenched herself out of his grasp.

"You didn't—you couldn't—That's a lie." Caroline, sweet Caroline, she would never...she wasn't like them. And to imagine that he'd left her, creapt from their bed and out to hunt like some _beast_, and then she'd kissed him, stolen blood still cooling on his lips. It was too much, it was too much to take.

"Is it? Or are you the one lying to yourself? We aren't like you. And Stefan's magical eating plan? Has nearly destroyed him. I was trying to save him tonight, teach him some moderation. Because you know what happens when you deny who you are? You wind up like Stefan, who would've killed that woman tonight; ripped her head off and danced in her blood. Is that what you want for him? For yourself?"

There was blood in his eyes; there was blood on his breath. "You're a monster," she said.

He spread his arms wide, his face utterly transfigured with the blood. "This is who I am. This is what you _want _to be. Take a good, long look. If you thought the reality was different, then you're a fool."

Damon was right. So was Matt. And Bill Forbes. She'd been lying to herself all along. They were monsters with human faces, parasites that lived on misery and death. Elena stumbled to her car, and Damon didn't move to follow. He simply watched with scarlet eyes as her car screeched into the night.


	49. Pissed

_Holy super long chapter, you guys! Well, long for this story, anyway. I didn't sit down intending to write this monster, but Damon got chatty, so, um, bonus? Anyway, this will catch us up through 1912, so we can all get ready to have our faces rocked off by 3x17. Enjoy, and I'll see you on the other side._

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><p>Elena climbed the stairs to her room, already plotting what she'd say to Damon when she opened the door and found him standing by the window. Surely he'd be there like always, surely he'd take her in his arms and look at her with eyes that were blue, not scarlet, and tell her it had all been a lie, explain what had really happened and tell her that she made him want to be a better man. Surely that was what would happen.<p>

Her window was closed. The room was empty.

_Fine. _If he wanted to play the vampire, let him. She'd play the human. She ripped the vial of his inhuman blood from her neck and dropped it into the trash can. If that was what Damon thought their future was going to look like, tag-teaming drunks in back alleyways and eating soccer moms, he had another thing coming.

It didn't have to be that way...did it? Stefan had managed just fine for decades without a single drop of human blood. Sure, he couldn't do some of the more complicated vampire tricks, like compulsion, but why would anyone want that power, anyway? That kind of power was seductive, and Elena was afraid that if she had it, she'd use it. Like Damon did.

But even if she did decide to drink human blood, she didn't have to hurt people. That girl—Karen, he'd said—she didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve to be attacked and bled and have her mind wiped clean.

Elena thought she'd been ready to turn. She thought that with Damon's help, they'd be able to get through anything. Together. But what if Damon became her worst enemy when she turned, the nagging devil on her shoulder urging her to bite a little harder, drink a little more deeply, hunt a little more viciously? What would become of her then?

Scar or no, Elena was afraid she and Katherine would become indistinguishable.

A scalding hot shower didn't scour the doubt from her mind, but it did erase the lingering scent of blood from her skin. Elena curled up in bed with Samantha's journal, certain sleep would never find her, but after trying to decipher a few pages of the lunatic ramblings, her eyelids drooped.

She awoke when the dagger plunged into the mattress, inches from her face, the bed bucking wildly with the force of the blow. Elena operated on pure instinct, her months of training kicking in as she rolled off the bed to crouch on the floor. She sought desperately for a weapon, any weapon, and came up with her bedside lamp, clutching the slender neck in both hands like a baseball bat. She whirled to face her attacker and froze.

It was Ric but it wasn't. There was a horrible, aching emptiness in his eyes, a sort of slack blankness that she'd never seen before. This wasn't him, this wasn't him slashing out with that brutal, familiar knife, leaving her to leap backward, but there was nowhere else to go except against the wall. And she was trapped. "Stop! Alaric, wake up!" she cried.

But he didn't. He just turned those dead eyes on her and started to ram the knife home. But Elena was faster. The lamp shattered against his skull, the base exploding into a thousand shards, and Ric slumped to the floor.

The world stopped. Nothing moved, nothing breathed. Then she heard a sound and realized it was her own scream and then Damon was there and how could he be there? How did he know and why did he come, after everything she'd said, after she'd called him a monster? She didn't know, but he was there and he was pulling her away from Ric, saying something about the ring and Samantha Gilbert but she couldn't hear the words and all she knew was that Ric had tried to kill her but she'd beaten him to it.

The scent of blood bloomed, sharp and real. It brought her back to herself as Damon forced his wrist to Ric's mouth, and the man choked and sputtered his way back to consciousness. He wasn't dead. She hadn't killed him. Again. That was something. Cold comfort, but it was something.

"Damon? The fuck?" Ric managed. He tried to sit up, but fell back, wincing. Elena saw his eyes, and that emptiness was gone, replaced with pain and confusion. It was Ric again. "Oh, man. What am I doing in Elena's room? How much did I drink?"

Damon rose from his crouch, offering a hand to his friend. "I don't know how much you've had, but I have a feeling you're going to need another. We have to talk."

* * *

><p>"You don't have to do this," Elena said, plumping the pillows on the makeshift bed they'd made up on the floor of the Salvatore dungeon. The air mattress and blankets didn't make up for the fact that this was still a jail cell, the last resort for those who couldn't be trusted with those they loved. Elena had the absurd desire to go find a vase of flowers to put down here, just to cheer up the unrelenting gloom.<p>

Ric had scarcely spoken since they'd realized the truth about the murders, the truth about the ring. But there was no sense in denying what they knew had to be true. Damon's memories and findings spurred a closer examination of Samantha Gilbert's journal. When all that evidence was combined with Ric's own actions, there couldn't be any doubt. Ric had asked to come to the dank cell, had put the cold, heavy ring into her hand and asked Damon to make sure he couldn't hurt anyone else.

The teacher looked at her, but didn't bother to respond to her platitude. Of course he should be locked up. They both knew it. But he didn't deserve this.

"You're a _good _man," Elena insisted. "You're my family, Ric. We're going to get through this. I'll give—we'll get the ring to Bonnie. She'll know what to do." Maybe. If she'd even help them anymore. But surely for Ric...she didn't know. They'd figure something out, find another witch if they had to. They weren't letting him go.

"You need to leave," Ric said, sinking onto the mattress and turning his back on her. "It's not safe for you here."

Elena felt the ring in her pocket. This had been supposed to keep him safe. "I'm not going anywhere," Elena said firmly.

"I'll stay with him," Stefan said from behind her. She turned. No blood on his face, the hunger extinguished from his eyes, leaving a much more familiar emotion to fill the void. Pain.

Ric was caught in his own private world of misery; he didn't even raise his eyes when Elena left the tiny, claustrophobic cell. Or when the door clanged shut. Or when Stefan drove the bolt home. "You're going to be okay, Ric. We're going to fix this."

It was only then that Ric raised his head. "You can't _fix_ this. They're dead. Two people are dead. Because of me."

"It wasn't your-" Elena started, but Stefan rested a hand on her shoulder. She pulled away. All she could see was the blood dripping from his lips, feeble attempts to wipe the gore away.

"I'll keep watch over him. I need the distraction," Stefan said.

Elena didn't want to go. She wanted to stay here, just to be with Ric, as he'd been there for her after Bonnie had disowned her, after Jenna had been torn from them. But once again, she was powerless. Once again, she was a problem. Tears welled in her eyes, but she forced them away with a hard scrub of her hand. No. She wouldn't fall apart. Not in front of these broken men. But she'd go, if that's what they needed, if they needed to be alone with their grief. "I'll just be upstairs. If either of you need anything."

Neither man responded. Elena climbed the stairs.

Damon was standing in front of his bottles and decanters, staring hard at the array. He didn't look at her when she walked in. It was just as well. "You okay?" he asked.

"No. You?"

"No." Damon walked away from the bar. No drink. Elena took his place in front of the golden, glowing bottles and poured herself a stiff glass of bourbon (or was it scotch? Whiskey? She couldn't tell the difference; it all tasted nasty) and drank deeply. It didn't help.

Damon sank into a chair. Elena chose the couch. "You still pissed?" he asked.

"Yes," she said simply. Maybe she shouldn't be. After all, he'd still saved her. But even a brush with death couldn't erase the cruel words from her ears, couldn't take away the image of him sliding from her bed and stalking into the night.

"Good. I'm still pissed, too." Damon leaned forward, swiping the glass from her hand. Elena was too busy sputtering to notice.

"_You're _pissed? At _me?_ You were the one who-"

"Who said anything about being pissed at you?" Damon said, mercifully cutting off her enraged mumblings. Elena blinked in bewilderment. It was too late and this had been too long a day for this cryptic bullshit. "I'm pissed at my brother for refusing to face the reality that he's a _fucking vampire_, and that we have to deal with it now_, _when everything's falling down around our ears. I'm pissed at your lousy timing, because we were finally making progress until you showed up." He tossed the rest of the drink down and stared at the empty glass. He sighed. "Mostly though, I'm pissed at myself."

There was considerably less yelling than Elena had anticipated. That was good, she supposed, but this situation was still baffling. "I need you to explain what happened. Without getting all vampire-y, just tell me what you were doing with Stefan and with that—with Karen." She would give the woman her name. She deserved a name.

Damon set the glass on the table. Ran his hands through his hair. "I was helping him. I know it didn't look that way, but Stefan's problem is that he never learned how to just deal with the shit that comes with being a vampire. He was always either living this weird, creepy aesthetic lifestyle with squirrels and things, or he was completely off the deep end and tearing people to pieces. And part of that's my fault." He dropped his eyes, staring down at the floor. "A lot of that's my fault, actually."

Some deep, protective anger stirred within Elena. "Stefan told me something you said to him once. 'You are not allowed to feel my guilt.' Stefan has made his own choices. He's your brother—it's your job to love him, it's not your job to take responsibility for his actions."

Damon's gaze rose to meet hers, lips parted in surprise. "Christ Almighty, Elena, I love you. But I don't want to talk about Stefan. Not right now. I want to talk about the other thing I'm pissed off about. And that's taking out all my guilt and fear and all those other squishy things I'm not supposed to feel on you."

"Then those things weren't true, right? Those things you said—about you and Caroline, that was just you being mad?" Elena asked hopefully. But she knew the answer before Damon even said the words.

"They weren't...untrue," he allowed. "There were some exaggerations. Like sneaking out of bed to go prowling? That was just me being a dick. But I do hunt, and I do feed on people. But I don't kill them. Not anymore."

"So you just jump them in dark alleyways, chomp on their necks and then erase their memories? How is that okay, Damon? In what universe is that okay?" Elena asked, frustrated. So he wasn't killing people. Big fucking whoop. You couldn't just go around _biting _people just because-

Damon was seated beside her on the couch, nearly on top of her. She swallowed a yelp of surprise. He surveyed her with sober eyes and took her hand in his. He raised her hand until her fingers pressed against the pulse in her throat. Elena could feel her heart dancing beneath the thin layer of flesh.

"Do you feel that?" Damon asked quietly. She nodded. "Imagine that's all you can hear, Elena. Imagine that sound is roaring in your ears like the ocean. Not just the beat of your heart, but the sound of the blood pounding in your veins. I can tell that your blood pressure is high from anxiety, can hear the sheer weight of red blood cells crushing against the inside of your arteries. I can hear the fear in every breath you take, Elena, and that kills me." His fingers trailed against her neck, and she froze, like a mouse trembling before a hawk. "But part of it makes me so fucking hard it's all I can do not to hold you down and _take you _in every sense of the word. You sound and smell and feel and _taste_ like food and sex and life and death. And so does every other person on this planet, Elena. Every minute of every day."

Then Damon released her hand and she could breathe again, she could think again now that the predator had let her escape. But her heart still hammered in her ears. "But you can control yourself. You don't have to give in, you don't have to be that way."

He shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe you're right. Or maybe it would tear me to pieces to deny what I am. Or maybe I just don't want to stop. But you have to know, Elena. I don't want you to realize one day that you can't love a monster." He smiled softly, but the words struck her like a slap in the face. "And even more importantly, I don't want you to hate what you become. Forever's a long time to despise yourself. Believe me, I've tried it." He held his hand out to her, a silent question.

There was no pulse in the hand he offered to her. No life. Damon was as dead as her parents, in a way. And she'd accepted that she'd become like him, begged him for it with tears in her eyes. Becoming a vampire meant safety and it meant eternity. But it also meant becoming a tick, a creature that could only survive if others suffered. And if Damon was to be believed, it also meant becoming an animal, always starving, always hunting, always teetering just on the brink of humanity. Was that worth forever? Even forever with the man she loved?

His flesh was cold as she placed her hand into his. "I'm going to ask you to promise me three things, okay? But only promise me if you really intend to do it, Damon. Don't lie—don't _exaggerate_ on this, okay?" She mustered a smile, and Damon nodded warily. "First, promise me you won't kill the people you feed on."

"Done," Damon said without hesitation.

"Second, promise me you'll do everything you can to not hurt or scare the people you feed on. Even that you'll be nice to them," Elena said.

He scrunched his face in distaste. "'Nice' might be pushing it, but no unnecessary roughness. You've got it."

Those were the easy questions. Those were the things she knew he'd promise her. But the only question that really mattered was the last. "Third, promise me that if—when-I turn, you'll let me find my own path." He started to protest, started to trample all over her words, but she carried on in a calm, low voice, and he fell quiet. "I can't be like you. I hear everything you've said, but I _can't _be like that, anymore than I can be like Stefan. I have to be myself, Damon. And I need you to help me remember who that is, not try to force me in your footsteps." Her grip on his hand tightened. "Can you promise me that?"

He wanted to argue with her. That was obvious. He wanted to tell her that she was crazy and denying what she would be and blah blah blah vampires. But he swallowed hard. "I won't let you fall, Elena. I won't let you become like him." He nodded towards the dungeon, where Stefan surely heard their every word. "I can't go through that again. But as much as I can, I'll help you be who you want to be. Is that good enough?"

Neither one of them were very good at keeping promises. They'd both broken vow after vow they'd made to each other. But they both kept trying. One day, they'd make it. She kissed him. "Yeah. It's enough."

Damon wrapped an arm around her. "So we're good?"

Elena rested her head against his shoulder. "Yeah. We're good. I love you even when you're an asshole."

He leaned his head against hers. "I love you even when you're self-righteous."

"Glad we've got that out of the way," she said. "Now how are we going to save Ric?"


	50. Bridged

_50 chapters. You guys know how insane that is, right? This is by far the longest single...anything I've ever written. Being able to stick with it is in no small part due to your encouragement and kind words and messages and alerts and everything else. I wish this was a flashy, uber dramatic chapter to mark the occasion, but we're just keeping on like we always do, exploring the crazy, complicated relationship between these two people. Thank you for all your support. Let's see where this ride keeps taking us, shall we?_

* * *

><p>Elena wanted to burn this bridge to the ground.<p>

Every inch of Wickery Bridge was drenched in memories. That railing had been transformed into a mass of splinters by their out-of-control minivan that May night. That patch of pavement where the billboard stood, crowing about the restoration of this "priceless local landmark," had once been bathed in red and blue and amber flashing lights as ambulances and police cars illuminated the night, flashlights casting lances of light into the murky waters below. And beneath the pile of reclaimed lumber were tire tracks, scorched rubber marring the roadbed where Stefan had slammed on the breaks, saving her from a watery grave and an unwanted rebirth.

Let this motherfucker burn.

But no, she was here with these Mystic Falls luminaries to celebrate the resurrection of this evil place with lemonade and cookies and people who applauded politely and smiled and talked about how this grand endeavor was saving the past for the future. Elena wanted to scream and ask what was wrong with them, how they could want to save this place of death and despair. But they didn't know. None of them knew the evil of this bridge. Except for Damon, who tightened his grip on her hand. "You don't have to be here. Go wait in the car; I've got to talk to Carol but we can blow this joint in ten minutes," he offered quietly.

Tempting to run. Tempting to hide. But she had to face this place. And being here was better than being back home with Ric and Meredith. The doctor had come to the boarding house and refused to leave until she explained everything. She'd reached the same conclusion about the Mystic Falls serial killer, had known for some time that it was Ric. Locking him up was an unnecessary precaution, she'd promised. She could help him. They were wary (Ric most of all), but she convinced him that an MRI was in order, could show her what had changed within his mind and see what they could do to fix it. So the two of them had headed for the hospital while Damon and Elena came to do their duty as Founding Family members. It was all about keeping up appearances, after all. Elena would smile and murmur nonsense about how her parents had loved the historical heritage of Mystic Falls; Damon would write a check. Then they could get back to picking up the pieces.

"I'm fine," she said, her tight smile revealing the lie. Damon just slid her arm through his and led her into the fray.

Carol Lockwood popped into their path, eyes widening as she saw Elena arm-in-arm with an unexpected Salvatore. But that veil of Southern gentility slid over her and she smiled. "Damon, Elena, so glad you two could make it. But where's Alaric? I was expecting him, he was supposed to bring the restored sign. Everyone is so excited to see it. Did he send it with you?" she burbled.

Damon could play the game of manners as well as anyone, when he chose to. "Oh, Carol. I'm so sorry. Ric just hasn't been feeling like himself lately, and wanted me to send his regrets. He says he'll have the sign ready for you by the time the reconstruction is complete. I know how sorry he is he couldn't bring it today," Damon said, all wide eyes and bashful contrition.

Carol sighed. "I understand. Things have been a little crazy for all of us. So long as it's ready for the unveiling, that'll just have to do." She smiled then, brilliant and bright as a toothpaste commercial. "Well, I'd better get this party started, hadn't I? You two enjoy yourselves."

The instant Carol's back was turned, Damon dropped the good boy act and rolled his eyes. "A fucking _sign _is her number one priority in a town full of Originals and hybrids? When are we having elections for a new mayor, anyway?"

"They tried, no one else wanted the job," Elena said.

"Democracy at its finest. Anyway, let's get out of here." He froze, his eyes locking on someone standing on the fringes of the crowd. Elena followed his gaze to a pretty, red-headed woman. "Elena, go wait in the car."

"Who is she?" Elena asked. There was no way she was going to go sit in the car like some passive girlfriend while Damon dealt with whoever this woman was. He seemed startled, even shaken to see her.

"A blast from the past. And a dangerous one at that. If I promise to explain everything to you, will you _please _go wait in the car?" Damon asked.

"What, do you want me make you a drink and fetch your slippers, too, Damon? I'm not a damsel who's going to hide while you deal with the big bad whatever. Besides," she said hotly, nodding over his shoulder. "It's too late."

Damon whirled to face the approaching red head, stepping protectively in front of Elena. Who was this woman, and why did she have Damon so spooked?

"Damon Salvatore," the woman purred. "My _favorite _student."

Oh, Elena did not like this bitch already. Not that gleam in her eye or that suggestion in her voice, not the way she looked Damon up and down and licked her lips. Maybe she should have waited in the fucking car.

"Sage. What brings you back to Mystic Falls?" Elena couldn't see Damon's face, but she could hear the smirk in his voice, practically picture the mocking way his eyes ran over Sage's body. Good. Perfect. Because Elena needed one more woman to be jealous about.

"Just passing through, thought I'd stop by and see my star pupil." She leaned around Damon to get a better look at Elena. Elena did her best to stand still and meet her eyes, not to flinch or squirm under that invasive gaze."Looks like you're still following my lesson plans. You always were a quick study."

"That little slip of a girl? Come, Sage, surely even someone with your limited faculties can see he's only with her because she looks like Katerina," a new voice said in round, plumy tones. Rebekah. This day just kept getting better and better. Elena _hated _this bridge. All she needed to complete this nightmare was for Katherine to show up. It wouldn't even have surprised her anymore.

"Easy, Rebekah. Sage used to _beat _men for sport," Damon said, his voice light even as he pushed Elena behind him again. This time, she didn't argue. Caught between two powerful, bitchy vampires with torches for Damon was a bad, _bad _place to be.

"She always was quite common," Rebekah replied drily.

"Hello, Rebekah. Believe it or not, the resemblance wasn't lost on me. But this one is human, which is so much more _fun._" Sage smiled up at Damon. On a human, it would have been a sweet, pleasant smile, but on her lips it became a twisted, wretched thing. "Why don't we go back to your place and see just how much fun she can be? You know what they say: Three's a crowd, but four's a party." Something cold clenched inside Elena. She knew Damon would never let these two hellcats get their claws into her, but the very thought of being at the mercy of those ancient, vicious vampires (for there could be no doubt about what Sage really was) ranked right up there with becoming Klaus' human blood bag on her long list of nightmares.

"What are you doing here, Sage?" Rebekah asked with an impatient toss of her head, blonde hair flying.

Sage sighed. "You never were any fun. I'm here because I heard Finn was finally free from that coffin your rageaholic brother carted him around in," Sage said.

"Finn? But Finn tried to k— Ow!" Elena cried as Damon stomped on her foot.

"Finn headed out of town with Esther like a good mama's boy," Damon said smoothly. "Haven't heard from him since. Have you, Rebekah?"

"No, and good riddance. He didn't tell a soul where he was going. And you know, he didn't seem to mention you at all," Rebekah said, relishing the words.

"Probably went looking for me," Sage said. She didn't seem at all bothered by Rebekah's taunts, cool as a cucumber.

"Or, quite possibly, he forgot all about you. Sorry you came all this way for nothing." Rebekah turned and started to stalk off, but paused, glancing back. "Oh, and Elena? I'll be seeing you. I haven't forgotten about your Homecoming gift." Rebekah disappeared into the crowd.

"God, I hate that ugly, elitist Original bitch," Sage muttered. Elena decided maybe she could like this woman after all. "But three's still a pretty decent party. What do you say, Damon? Do you remember what women are _really _for?" On second thought, never mind.

"Maybe another time," Damon said, turning to watch Rebekah's retreating back. "Right now, I'm more interested in what the elitist bitch is up to. She's been snooping around me for days."

"You didn't tell me that," Elena said. What did Rebekah's "snooping" entail, exactly? Elena still remembered the looks they'd shared, fingers sticky with marshmallows, or how they'd danced together, the way Rebekah had gazed up at Damon with heat in her eyes. She knew Damon had assured her he wasn't a fan of blondes, but Rebekah was accustomed to getting what she wanted.

"We've been a little busy, Elena, I was gonna get to it," Damon said, shooting her a _not now _look. Elena bit her tongue. Fine, not now. But later.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten everything I taught you," Sage said. She was obviously amused by the brief lover's spat, her eyes darting between the two. "What, has hanging around with this human made you forget what you are? Get inside Rebekah's head and _take_ what you want."

Huh? What was she talking about? Damon couldn't compel another vampire, let alone an Original. And it wasn't like vampires could read minds, right? But then, she hadn't known they could walk in dreams either, prowl through the corridors of the mind like ghosts. Maybe this was one of those less-publicized vampire tricks Damon had told her about.

"I can't," Damon said. "She's too strong."

"But I could," Sage said with another one of those oily smiles. "Rebekah may be an Original, but she's still a _girl_." Contempt dripped from the word. "You find her weakness and exploit it, and I'll walk right in."

For a moment, Damon actually seemed to be considering her words. "Damon," Elena said, a warning note in her voice.

Sage laughed, and it set Elena's teeth on edge. "Oh, look at you. She's got you on a short leash, doesn't she? Tell me, do you let her keep your balls in her pocket like Katherine did? Are you still _spoken for_?"

Elena looked up at Damon, expecting him to snarl and reach for the woman's throat, but he just smiled. "Good to see you again, Sage. I hear they have cage fights down by the river on Friday nights. Probably gonna have to do more than flash your tits around to win now, though. C'mon, Elena, we've got a psycho teacher to save."

Sage's mocking laughter followed them, carried on the breeze. "Poor puppy. If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

Neither of them looked back as they walked away from that fucking bridge.


	51. Repressed

"Yes, I fucked Sage. It was a long time ago and I was still a hot mess over Katherine and it's not going to happen again," Damon said as they slid into the Camaro. "I mean, gingers have no souls, right? Plus, she was weirdly bossy and demanding, and not in a good way."

Elena pulled the car door shut, blinking over at him. "Damon."

"And yes, Rebekah has been hanging around, but nothing _has_ happened and nothing _will_ happen, because besides the fact that I love _you, _I'm pretty sure my dick would shrivel up and fall off it came within ten feet of that bitch. Mostly she's just been asking me about lumber mills and things that happened in the early twentieth century and not about doing the horizontal mambo or anything related to Klaus, so with Ric going all accidental psycho killer, I didn't think it was important enough to mention." He paused for breath. "What am I forgetting? I feel like there was some other hot water that conversation got me into."

"You aren't in hot water, Damon, but I'm starting to think Sage was right. Would you like your balls back?" Elena asked sweetly, reaching out to take his hand.

Damon grinned and tugged her hand into his lap so she could confirm that the body parts in question were still firmly in place. Elena laughed, gave a teasing squeeze, and pulled her hand away. Surprisingly, she wasn't upset about the confirmation that Sage and Damon had slept together. Really, if she was going to get in a tizzy every time she ran into one of Damon's paramours, she was in for a lot of consternation. Damon had never made a secret of the fact that he liked women, and Elena knew that he'd only really ever loved two of them. So long as Katherine stayed far, far away and the rest of his exes remained in the past, she could deal.

"You don't have my balls," Damon said. "And I'm no neutered puppy, fuck you very much, Sage. I just...I could tell that conversation was getting to you. Hell, it was getting to me and I knew what was going on. So I didn't want you to think I was hiding anything from you." He laced his fingers through hers.

"I know you aren't. You aren't always Mr. Transparency, so I appreciate that you're making an effort. Thank you. Now fill me in on the rest of it," Elena said. Damon released her hand and put the car into gear, heading back to the Gilbert house. Elena checked her phone, but there was no word from Ric or Meredith. Elena felt a sudden wave of panic. Maybe they shouldn't have left Ric alone with Meredith. But without the ring, surely he'd be fine. Elena fought the tide of anxiety. Everything was fine; they were probably still running tests.

"I met Sage about a hundred years ago, when I came back to Mystic Falls for my nephew's funeral," Damon said slowly, with that look in his eye that told her his thoughts were firmly rooted in the past.

"Whoa, whoa, Stefan had a _kid_?" Elena asked, surprise lancing through her like lightning. That's how nephews worked, right?

Damon laughed. "Please. Stefan didn't even know where to put his dick before he met Katherine, and no offspring were going to come from that. My father dipped _his _pen in the company ink. Once we 'died,' that kid got promoted from bastard to full Salvatore. Someone had to carry on the name."

That certainly made a hell of a lot more sense. "Got it. Your nephew died and you came back to town," she prompted.

"Right. So, came back for Zachariah's funeral and Stefan dragged me to some weird underground Fight Club thing_; _not really sure what it was about, but hey, it seemed like fun at the time. And Sage was one of the boxers, which was _very _scandalous for 1912. Of course, since she was a vampire, she never lost. Nice racket," Damon said, sounding moderately impressed by Sage's money-making scheme.

"Ohhh. That explains the cage fighting comment, though you know as well as I do that there's no such thing in Mystic Falls," Elena said.

"Just because you don't know about it, doesn't mean it doesn't exist," Damon smirked. "Anyway, you have to remember, I was a little...different back then. And by 'different,' I mean repressed and pissy. I guess Sage saw...potential in me." He stared out the window for a long moment. "She was right. I had all the potential in me to be just as twisted and sick as she was."

"I don't understand," Elena said. "What did she _do _to you?" Elena remembered scrutinizing that tintype of that wavy-haired man in the slouched Confederate cap, his eyes full of dreams. That man, that enigma, had become repressed and pissy? Elena had a hard time imagining Damon, the man who seemingly acted on his every whim, repressing anything at all. But a lot could change in a hundred years.

"She didn't do anything, per se. She's a convenient scapegoat, but I did everything. It was all there waiting to come out, she was just the catalyst." He shifted uneasily in his seat. "It had been fifty years since I'd lost Katherine. Well, since she ditched me, but I thought she was lost. And I still loved her. And was...faithful. Only to her," he said with a significant widening of his eyes.

"Of course you were. I know you didn't love anyone between her and me and—oh. _Oh,_" Elena said as enlightenment dawned. "You're telling me you were-"

"Yep."

"For fifty years?"

"Yep. I was spoken for," he said, spitting the words out as if they tasted foul. Elena watched the leafless trees whizzing by outside the window, trying to gather her thoughts. Damon Salvatore, who hadn't gone more than a few days without some sorority girl or news reporter in his bed; Damon Salvatore who loved women and made love with a single-minded passion and skill that left Elena breathless, had denied himself for _fifty years? _

"Well. I guess I'd be a little pissy if I had a fifty year drought, too," Elena said, resting her hand on his thigh. She'd underestimated his devotion to Katherine, not to mention his self control. But Damon was loyal to his very core. If Sage had been able to jar him from fifty years of self-imposed celibacy, she must be something special. Elena wouldn't underestimate her.

Damon smiled. "Not my favorite half century, that's for sure. But that's how Sage found me, this giant ball of resentment and loathing and sexual frustration. And she told me what I wanted to hear. She told me...it doesn't matter what she told me. Bullshit about embracing the monster within. Suffice it to say, it set the tone for the next century of debauchery and excess. That asshole I was when I rolled into Mystic Falls back in '09? You can thank Sage's advice for that douchebag."

Considering that the Damon she'd met a year and a half ago had himself been a giant ball of resentment and loathing and sexual frustration, Elena wasn't sure exactly what Sage could've said. But it had obviously been a major change for Damon, to go from celibate to playboy, from pissy to wrathful. "And now she's back," Elena said.

"And now she's back," Damon agreed grimly.

"What was all that about Rebekah? And getting into her head? You can't actually _do _that, can you?" Elena asked.

"Well, _I_ can't. Not with Rebekah, anyway. I could with Caroline. Probably Stefan. But an Original? No way. But Sage is _old_. Nine hundred years old. She could probably do it, under the right circumstances," Damon said, thoughtful.

"Do what, exactly? And what do you think Rebekah knows, anyway?" Elena was desperately trying to keep up with this conversation, but with so much back story and vampire secrets, she felt like she needed a flow chart.

"It's kinda like dream walking. When I dream walk, I can _see _the dreams already taking place in someone's head. This is just more focused, lets you delve a little more deeply instead of just skimming the surface of the subconscious to find what you want." He held up a hand. "That's the other thing I knew I was gonna be in trouble for. No, I've never done it to you." Elena swatted his arm. "Don't like it, feels like...cheating. But as for Rebekah, that crazy bitch is up to something. Who goes around randomly asking about lumber mills? That's not normal. I mean, I _owned _them and I still don't care about them," Damon said, turning onto Elena's street.

"It's a little weird, yeah. But do we need to go looking for even more trouble than we already have?" Elena asked. "Why don't we just try to stay away from the crazy vampires and deal with helping Alaric?" Because really, Elena's plate was pretty full trying to help her last parental figure from descending entirely into madness and despair. If Rebekah wanted to talk about lumber, let her. As long as it kept Rebekah and Klaus far, far away from them, Elena didn't much care what they did.

"Sooner or later, these things usually _become _our problem." Damon pulled into the driveway. Both Meredith's and Ric's cars already sat in he driveway. Damon threw the car into park and frowned, pulling his vibrating cell phone from his pocket. "Go on in, it's Stef. Better make sure he hasn't eaten the neighbors."

He started to answer the phone, but Elena leaned over the center console, gripping his wrist. "Thank you. For explaining. For understanding." She kissed him, long and deep and teasing, her tongue stroking against his, her teeth tugging on his bottom lip as she pulled away. He groaned softly against her.

"You're just gonna leave me like that? And now I have to talk to _Stefan_? You'll get yours, Gilbert," he said with a heated glance that made her stomach do somersaults. He clicked the phone on. "What?"

Elena grinned and slid out of the car, making her way up to the house with a little sway to her hips and a little swagger in her step. For once, things weren't terrible. Well, for _her _life, things weren't terrible. A normal person would probably be sobbing in the corner. But when all Elena had to deal with were a quasi-psychotic teacher, a slightly unhinged ex-boyfriend learning to control his blood lust, and a pair of scheming vampires with only vague plans for her own death? That was a walk in the park.

"Ric? Meredith?" Elena called as she shut the front door behind her. It was quiet in the house. So still. For some reason, Elena's skin crawled, though she couldn't say why. That was silly. Everything was fine. Ric thumped down the stairs, wrapping a bandage around his hand. But he looked...fine. Normal. Not like that empty-eyed monster from the night before. "Ric. Hey. How'd it go at the hospital?"

Ric smiled. "Fine. I was kinda tired, so Meredith sent me home. She's still looking over the files from the MRI at the hospital."

Elena froze. Meredith's car was still in the driveway. She wasn't at the hospital. Elena forced a smile to her lips. "I'm sure she'll find something. But what happened to your hand?" Her eyes darted for a weapon. The coat rack was too big. Could she scream? Would Damon hear her? Could he get there in time?

Ric looked down at his hand with an embarrassed smile. "Oh, I broke a coffee cup and sliced my hand trying to pick up the pieces. That's all it is. Hey, Stefan was looking for you. Did he find you?"

Elena shook her head. Should she let him know Damon was outside? Would that ruin the element of surprise? Because Damon was going to burst in any minute and save the day, right? Fuck, she didn't know what to do. Something was seriously wrong here. "No, I haven't seen him. I was at that stupid Wickery Bridge re-dedication." Think, Elena. Think. "Oh, damn. Left my cell phone in the car. Be right back." Elena turned to the door, and her eyes fell on the knife, glittering and sharp and coated in thick, sticky blood. "Damon!" she screamed, scrabbling to open the door.

Ric grabbed a thick hank of her hair and yanked her head back before slamming it brutally against the front door. The world exploded into pain and then descended into blessed, unfeeling darkness.


	52. Trapped

Crisp, smooth cotton cradled her. Only Damon would spend the money on that absurd thread count; only Damon would be anal enough to iron his sheets. If she was in his bed, she was safe. Even the pain in her head had vanished, which probably explained why the taste of blood lingered in her mouth like an old penny. She just hoped Ric—oh God.

"Ric!"she cried. She struggled to sit up, but Damon was at her side in a flash, pressing her insistently against the bed.

"It's okay. You're fine. Ric's not here." The words were gentle, but the low growl of his voice gave him away. Damon was _pissed. _Rage and relief battled for dominance on his face. "Just take it easy."

"That's not what I meant, Damon. I'll take it easy as soon as you tell me Ric's okay," Elena pleaded. How had Damon found her? With Ric looming over her unconscious body, rearing back to strike the fatal blow with that knife? Damon had snapped Ric's neck twice before over trifles; had he done it now, when the ring was gone and the stakes were so much higher? Not Ric. Not him. Not another grave.

Rage won the war as Damon's expression darkened further. "He tried to kill you, Elena. Twice. In one day." Fingertips ghosted across her forehead, just where the door had hit her. "Damn near did it that time, too. How can you even ask about him?"

She clutched at his wrist. "That doesn't even rate in my top five injuries for the _week_, Damon. And it's not Ric doing it; you know it's not him. Now tell me he's okay."

Damon's lip started to curl, he started to sneer some response, but then he stopped. "He's fine. Of course he's fine. If it had been anyoneelse..." He broke off, pulling her to him in a painful embrace.

She hugged him back with all her might. "But it wasn't. It was Ric. It _is _Ric. And we're going to fix him."

Elena could feel him swallow down some emotion he refused to show, even to her. "God, I hope you're right."

Had Damon ever really had another true _friend _like Ric? Sure, he'd had Stefan, but they were blood; they had no choice but to love each other. But Ric had chosen to befriend Damon, for reasons she wasn't sure anyone understood. And they'd stuck together through hell and back, for reasons neither of them could quite explain. To lose Ric...Elena wasn't sure either of them could weather that. Elena stroked Damon's back until the vampire pulled himself together and reluctantly released her from his bone-cracking hold.

"Where is he?" she asked.

"The cell. With dungeon master Stefan keeping watch. And he's not coming out this time. Not until Bonnie can get here and work her hoodoo on him," he said firmly.

"Bonnie? You talked to Bonnie?" Hope leapt inside her. "Is she-"

But Damon was shaking his head. "I don't have a death wish; I'm staying far, far away from her. Stef called her. She's on her way. Apparently she and Caroline headed down to North Carolina with Abby this morning; thought it might be easier for her to transition at home. She'll be here in a few hours."

"Good. That's good." And it was. But that didn't stop the dull ache in her heart, that empty spot Bonnie's rejection had left behind. "And Meredith? Alaric—or whatever's inside Alaric—said she was still at the hospital, but I saw her car. And the knife." She shuddered. Elena was just going to stop keeping knives at home. John. Jenna. Now Meredith. It's not like Elena liked to cook, anyway. She made a mental note to throw the damn knife block in the trash next time she was home.

"Dr. Crazypants is down the hall sleeping. He got a good gut stab in, but nothing a little vampire blood didn't cure." The little smile faded from his face. "And speaking of. We need to talk."

"We don't have time to talk. We should be helping Ric. Doing...something," she said. Whatever they needed to talk about could wait. They couldn't lose Ric. It wasn't an option.

"We have to have time for this, Elena," he said. For the first time since she'd awoken, she looked at him, really looked at him. Lines of strain and worry marred his eternally beautiful face- a tightness in the mouth, a tension in the eyes. "I almost lost you twice today. We've been lucky. You were right. It's time." He searched her face then dipped his head, pressing a gentle kiss to her throat, to that tiny leaping pulse. Her heart thundered in her ears. "It won't hurt. You won't feel a thing," he murmured. "It'll be like falling asleep. And when you wake up, I'll be here. And you'll be safe."

His fangs slid into place against her neck. All she had to do was nod, and it would be done. She just had to let go, endure that brief prick of fangs and curl up in his arms and let him rock her to sleep. Wasn't this what she'd wanted? Wasn't this what she'd begged for?

But it was Damon who'd been right. This wasn't a decision to be made from fear. And all the same problems he'd raised before still applied. Chiefly, Klaus. But more immediately, they didn't have _time _for her to transition right now. They already had Abby to deal with, not to mention Stefan's quest for redemption, Ric's little murdering problem, the threat of the Originals and Sage. Elena couldn't let them all get distracted from what was important by focusing on her. Not now. Elena grasped his face in her hands, tugging him away from her neck.

"No. Soon. But not like this. For love, Damon," she said, stroking his lacy cheekbones, soothing his furrowed brow.

"This _is _for love. Don't you understand? I nearly killed Ric. I almost went fucking Ripper on him, tore him to pieces because he'd hurt you. If he'd actually done it? Christ, Elena. There wouldn't be anything left of me if you were gone." Blue eyes surrounded in a sea of scarlet searched hers. "Do you want me to beg? Want me to get on my knees? Because I'll do it."

"I always did like you best on your knees," Sage said, voice low and thick as honey. Damon flung himself in front of Elena, bristling as Sage strolled into the room. "Oh, but don't let me interrupt. This looked like it was just about to get interesting." The vampire leaned against the doorway, her lower lip catching between her teeth in a smile she obviously thought was charming.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, Sage?" Damon snarled. Elena rested her hand on his arm, terrified he'd make a run at the ancient vampire. He was no match for her; may as well have been as human as she was in the face of this threat. He tensed further at her touch, but made no move to attack the vampiress.

"No, Damon, who the fuck do you think _you _are? You're a vampire. She's food, she's a toy, she's a slave." The redhead's heels clicked on the floor as she approached. "You knew that, once. You knew your place in the world. And you knew theirs."

Damon's knees bent. "Take one more step, Sage, and I swear to God—"

A laugh like a crow's harsh cry echoed off the walls. "You'll what? Don't flatter yourself, boy. But I didn't come here to fight. I came here to help you. Rebekah and I had such a nice time at that charming little bar—what's it called, Mystic Grill?" Sage leaned around Damon and waggled her fingers at Elena. "Hello, doppelganger. Hate to break it to you, but Rebekah is not so fond of you."

"Feeling's mutual," Elena said, sliding off the bed to stand beside Damon. All he'd accomplish by trying to protect her was getting both of them killed. At least this way, Sage wouldn't have to go through him to get to her. "What did she say?"

Damon scowled over at her, but didn't push her behind him. He must have realized the truth of the situation, too. His eyes cut back to Sage. "More importantly, how'd you get her to talk? She hates your guts."

"But she loves Jell-O shots. Sad, really. Most vampires can hold their liquor, but not that one. Such a little girl," she sighed. "Didn't even need to read her thoughts; she spilled all her sad, dark secrets to me in a pathetic shower of tears. Do you want to know what she thinks about _you, _Damon?" she asked with a nasty grin.

"Couldn't possibly care less," Damon said. "Now get to the point or get the fuck out."

"You used to have better manners," Sage sniffed. "But fine. She's looking for a tree. A white oak tree, to be precise."

Damon and Elena stared at each other in slack-jawed amazement. A white oak tree. Another one? Surely they weren't this lucky. Had they really been given another chance to end Klaus once and for all?

"Ah. I see I have your attention now," Sage said.

"It was cut down. That's why she was asking about the lumber mills," Damon said slowly.

"Glad to see you haven't gone completely stupid. I'll keep Rebekah occupied while you look through your records and find where the damn thing went." Sage turned as if to leave, but in the next breath she was pressed against Elena, their bodies molded together. Veins crawled beneath Sage's eyes like snakes, and her fangs extended, curved and wicked. "Let's turn her, Damon. At least then your puppy-dog love wouldn't be so pathetic." Sage's wet, pink tongue darted out, lathing a line on her pulse. Elena made a horrified, nameless sound, but couldn't seem to muster the courage to free herself from this _thing _that held her ensnared. Sage buried her face in Elena's long hair. "I bet she tastes _delicious_," she cooed.

Damon crashed toward them, but Sage was already gone, disappearing in a mocking hail of laughter.

Suddenly Elena could move again, Elena could _think _again. She threw her arms around Damon and held him with all her feeble strength. It was nothing to a vampire, of course, but it at least gave him pause as he turned to tear off after Sage. "Let me go, Elena."

"If I let you go, she'll kill you." Every muscle in his body was flexed tight as a steel wire, straining to follow the predator who had _dared _threaten her. Elena had never seen Damon quite so feral, the animal within quite so close to the surface. "What will happen to me if you're gone?" she asked in a small voice. It was manipulative. It was wrong. But it worked. Damon turned to her, the last veins bleeding from his cheeks as humanity returned, as she brought him back to himself.

"Do you see now?" he asked. "We can't play this human game anymore. The stakes are too high." His eyes darted to the window."If we did it now, you'd be awake by the time the sun went down; add a bag of blood and you'd transition before the moon rose. Please."

"We don't have until sunset, Damon. We don't have until the moon rises. If I die now, I'll come back." She forced a smile. "I'm surprised I'm not already a vampire with all the blood I have in my system. But we can't worry about _us _right now. We have to find that tree."

"The tree? Oh, I know exactly where the tree is. Can't believe I didn't put two and two together," he said, disgust dripping from the words. "I remember that tree. We got a damn fortune for it—bought me my first car. My Tin Lizzie." As wound up as Damon was, the memory of his first set of wheels could still bring a smile to his face. "All I have to do is go get the wood, and we're back in the Original killing business."

Good. He was distracted, he had a plan. Elena still wanted to turn. The only way they could truly be together was if they met each other on equal ground—either human to human or vampire to vampire. Since the first option was impossible, she would have to be the one to change. And she would give up everything—the normal life, the children, the white picket fence—for Damon, but he'd been right. Not like this, not hurriedly and furtively like thieves in the night. Not before she told Jeremy, told Ric, spent one last day basking in the sunshine and eating ice cream and making love and just being human, just for one last day. With pints of vampire blood coursing through her veins, she was as safe now as she ever would be.

"Where is it?" Elena asked.

"Wickery Bridge. We sold that lumber to build the Wickery Bridge." Damon shrugged into his leather jacket.

So that explained it: The bridge was cursed. It was fated to cause pain and suffering to everyone, but most especially to the doppelganger who'd suffered to create the vampires only the white oak could kill. No wonder she hated that fucking bridge. "Good. Let's go get it before Rebekah figures out where it is."

"There's no 'we' in this one, babe. No turning, no going," Damon said.

"Can we just fast forward to the end of this argument? You tell me it's too dangerous, I say it's worth it, and I wind up going anyway. There. I just saved us like ten minutes. Can we go now?"

"Not this time." It happened too fast for Elena to follow, but one moment she was walking to the door and the next Damon had her pressed against the wall, had snapped the flimsy vervain bracelet from her wrist and tossed it aside. Elena didn't even have time to be afraid before the compulsion took hold. It was like being cradled in a cloud, soft and comforting and so safe. Blue eyes bored into hers. "You will not leave this house until I get back. You will stay away from the dungeon, and you will stay the fuck out of trouble. Do you understand, Elena?"

Some part of Elena was screaming in outrage, some part of her wanted to tell him to take his compulsion and shove it. But that part was so far away from the cloud she drifted on. She nodded. "I understand."

"I know you're going to be pissed at me. You have every right to be. But I can deal with pissed. I can't deal with dead." He kissed her, and the instant his eyes broke from hers, that rage came flooding in like a tsunami. Before she could lash out at him, before she could scream, he was gone. And she was trapped.


	53. Stuck

_So, how about that episode, ya'all? Did I pick an awkward time for Elena to be stuck in the house or what? ;) Ahh, the joys of writing along with the show. Luckily (well, unluckily-boo hiatus!), we've got three weeks to figure this all out. This chapter has to get through a lot of plot, but stick with me-major twists (and more Damon, don't worry) ahead. And we're up over 700 reviews, which is just completely bonkers, so it's time to thank you all again for being generally amazing._

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><p>The door was open. The way was clear. Elena just couldn't take a single step outside. It wasn't dramatic; there was no force field that flung her back from the door, like when a vampire tried to enter a home uninvited. No, she could put her feet right up to the threshold, and not a single step farther. She'd been trying all afternoon with every door and window in the house, certain that if she just tried hard enough, wanted it enough, she could break free. But so far? No luck.<p>

The feeling of helplessness was nearly overwhelming. When Damon left, it had been bad enough, the first moments lost in anger and betrayal. How _could _he? He knew how she felt about compulsion, and after everything they'd been through together—how she'd shown that she could help, that she could save him (and not in some touchy-feely way, but in actual, saving-him-from-torture ways), why would he do this to her?

A barrage of texts and calls went unanswered. Hours stretched endlessly. Just when Elena was starting to consider doing something petty like pouring blood all over Damon's immaculate bedroom, she heard stirrings below. She turned toward the dungeon door to find Alaric and Stefan. When they caught sight of her, they exchanged little smiles. Elena put her hands on her hips.

"You know," she accused.

Stefan shrugged. "Yeah, he called me. But what do you expect, Elena? It's _Damon_. I tried to tell you."

Elena's eyes narrowed, but even Ric agreed. "He's got a point. Damon's always been pretty clear about the lengths he'll go to so he can keep you safe"

That was true, but Elena had hoped they were past the unilateral decision-making phase of their relationship. Obviously, she was wrong. "Where are you two going? Damon said you were on lock down. Hence why I couldn't go downstairs to see you," she said bitterly.

Stefan coughed, and Elena suspected it was to cover a laugh. She resisted the urge to throw something at him, but it was good just to see some semblance of happiness on his face, even if it was at her expense.

"Bonnie was here," Ric said quietly. "She says I'm going to be okay. So long as I keep drinking this." He held up a Nalgene full of a murky yellow liquid.

Ric had tried to kill her. Multiple times. When she looked at him, sometimes all she could see was his face twisted into a rictus of rage. But right now, she didn't care. She flung herself into his arms, letting herself truly believe that for once, a problem could be solved with a spell. Ric stumbled back a step in surprise, but returned the hug, patting her back awkwardly before pushing her away. "It's still probably better you keep your distance," he said.

"Not happening," Elena said. "It wasn't you, Ric, so don't you dare beat yourself up. Not over this. But where are you two going?"

"Long story. Apparently Sage got into Damon's head and found out about the Wickery Bridge, told Rebekah, and she burned it to the ground," Stefan said.

"You seem strangely...not upset about that," Elena said. Her heart sank like a lead balloon. They'd just lost their last weapon in the fight against Klaus. She'd always be a human blood bag.

"Because there's something Damon didn't know. We have more white oak," Stefan said with a grim smile. "The Wickery Bridge sign, back at Ric's place."

So it wasn't over, then. There was more fight left in them yet. Well, in all of _them_. She was still stuck here. "So Damon's going to come back and let me out so we can all go get it and figure out a way to kill them, right?"

The men exchanged glances, silently arguing over who had to break the news to her. "He's not coming back," she said. It wasn't a question.

"Damon thinks—and we agree—it's better for you to sit this one out," Stefan said.

"This is crap, guys! I can help, I can do _something_." she said. Did they really think so little of her?

"It's too risky, Elena. Just leave this one to us. It'll be over soon," Ric said.

"It's just as risky for you, Ric—riskier! Unless you take this." She fished in her pocket for the heavy ring, lapis lazuli embraced by the sheltering wings of an eagle. It was heavy and cold in her hand. She held it out to Ric expectantly. "Bonnie's spell worked. You need to take this."

Ric looked at the ring, obviously torn. "Please. I can't lose you, Ric. You and Jer are the only family I have left," she said.

"Manipulative little thing," Ric muttered, but he took the ring and slid it on. "We'll be back soon."

They left. She was alone. Anxious. Frustrated. Worried. Bored.

She called Caroline. "Can you override his compulsion? Can you get me out of here?"

"Elena, he's one hundred and fifty years older than I am," Caroline said gently. "And Damon happens to be really good at compulsion. I'm sorry he did that to you—that's way shitty, and I'll tell him that when I see him."

"Wait, when you see him? What are you talking about?"

Hesitation. "Um. Apparently the boys cut up the sign. They have like a dozen stakes. And it's going down. Tonight."

Again, Elena couldn't but marvel at the strength and steel in her friend's voice. Once, Caroline had only worried about what dress she'd wear to Miss Mystic Falls. That Caroline was long gone, replaced by a girl who was resilient and tough and smart yet still so endlessly hopeful about people and life that it took Elena's breath away. But all that joy and fire could disappear in a moment if their plans went awry.

"Are you sure about this, Caroline? This isn't your fight, you don't have to-"

"Isn't my fight? Have you been paying attention? Of course this is my fight. Klaus tried to kill me, and the things he's done to Tyler? This is my fight as much as anyone's," the girl said. Elena sighed. She was right.

"Be careful. And tell Damon...tell Damon to be careful, too. Tell him I love him, but he's gotta survive this so I can yell at him." she said.

"You got it, babe," Caroline chirped.

Elena couldn't sit still, couldn't concentrate. Everyone she loved was out there risking their lives, and she was stuck here. Somehow, things always worked out that way. Elena had stood by while Jenna was murdered, unable to do anything but impotently scream, beg her aunt to run from her emotions, block out the terror that must have invaded her last moments. She'd cradled Damon in her arms while death stalked his veins, but had been unable to ease his suffering. She'd been unable to soothe Stefan's pain through that long, hot summer, unable even now to bring him back from the brink.

Sometimes, she was so useless, it was all she could do not to scream.

It took her twenty steps to pace the length of the living room. Twenty footfalls. Pause. Turn. Twenty more. The ticking of the grandfather clock pounded in her ears. Where were they now? The entire team holding down Rebekah as she screamed like a hellcat? Damon, alone and swallowing his fear as he snuck up behind Klaus on velvet feet, every muscle coiled like a spring as he reared back, only for Klaus to turn, that mocking cruelty in his eyes as he reached for Damon's throat.

If he died, the compulsion would break. So long as she could not leave this house, she had hope. Her irritation with her captivity evaporated. She would never set foot outside this house again if it meant having him back. All of her anger at his compulsion was nothing beside this terror. Elena turned to the door. She would stand there until he returned, or until...the latter didn't bear thinking of.

Only two steps separated her from the door when it banged open, revealing a screaming banshee, red hair flying in a fiery halo, red eyes leaking furious tears of rage and loss. Sage threw herself through the door and caught Elena with a back-handed blow that forced Elena to her knees as stars cascaded across her vision.

"What are you doing?" Elena cried. As the stars faded from her eyes, replaced with a dull throb in her jaw, she could vaguely make out another figure behind Sage.

"Your Salvatores took everything from me," she hissed, eyes glassy-bright with manic fury, her face pale. "They took _him._ I'm just repaying the favor."

Finn. Sage had loved Finn. How was Finn even in Mystic Falls? But none of that mattered. If he was dead, they'd won. The bound siblings were all dead. But Elena wouldn't survive to savor the victory. Another brutal blow sent her reeling to the ground.

"Go ahead," she gasped. "Kill me. I'll come back, and Finn won't. You still lose, Sage." Taunting the 900-year-old psychopath was probably not among Elena's finest ideas, but she was punch drunk and elated with the knowledge that even if she died, they'd still won, and Damon still lived.

Sage straddled her prone body, kneeling, her grief-torn face just inches from hers. "Oh, sweetheart. You won't come back if I rip your heart from your body and feed it to your precious Salvatores." Her hand came to rest on Elena's chest. There wasn't time for fear, wasn't time to scream. All she could do was brace herself and wait for the penetration, for the jerk as her beating heart was torn from its rightful place and-

But it never came. Sage suddenly collapsed atop her, coughing bloody sputum on Elena's face. "Trent, help me!" the woman cried.

The man staggered forward, but quickly fell to his own knees. Elena struggled to free herself from under Sage's thrashing body as the vampire screamed, a keening wail that ended suddenly. For an eternity, Elena was frozen in place. Then her own horrified scream echoed through the house and she scrambled out from under the dead weight.

Both vampires lay dead, shriveled and gray. Vampires didn't just keel over dead. Lurching to her feet, Elena ran to the door. She nearly fell when she hit the threshold. She could go no farther.

There was still hope .


	54. Jumped

_All right, I'm more nervous to put this chapter up than any other I've done before. I hope it makes sense; I hope it comes out all right. Thanks to onerepublicgirl and Charlotte Silverthorne for helping me work through some of my issues. _

_And to answer a question I've been getting a lot: This story will end with the season. We'll keep on trucking right through the last moment of "The Departed" and see where it leaves all our characters. Thanks for sticking around this long-hang with me 'til the bitter end._

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><p>Over and over again, Elena assured herself that this day couldn't get any worse. But each new bombshell reminded her that life could always, always get worse.<p>

She wasn't sure how long she'd stood at the door, straining to move beyond the confines of the house while praying not to. Her cell phone became her lifeline as she dialed the same four numbers in an endless loop.

"You've reached the voicemail of Alaric Saltzman. To schedule a parent-teacher conference, please call 804-555-5916. Otherwise, please leave a message and I'll respond as soon as I can."

"Hi! It's Caroline!" The message broke up into giggles. "Bonnie, stop it! Um, anyway! Leave me a message and I'll hit ya back!"

A robotic female voice. "You've reached the voicemail of-" "Stefan Salvatore," a familiar voice broke in. The robot continued. "To leave a callback number, press one, or leave a message at the tone."

"You know what to do," Damon's voice purred.

Why did they have phones if no one ever answered the damn things? Elena was ready to throw her phone against the wall when it vibrated. She nearly dropped it, but managed to catch it before it fell outside and out of her reach. But the name on the caller ID was unexpected. She raised the phone to her ear.

"Bonnie?" There were so many things she wanted to say, wanted to ask. To thank her for saving Alaric, to ask if she was okay, if Abby was okay, if _they _were okay. But she didn't. She waited.

The voice on the other end of the line was hollow, as if the last traces of life had drained away, leaving only a husk. "I have two things to tell you. The first is that the Originals are unlinked. The second is that Rebekah has Stefan." The line went dead.

What followed next was a flurry of confusion and panic. "911. It's Stefan," Elena texted to Damon. Her phone buzzed back almost immediately. "I know. We're working on it. You can yell at me soon. Love you."

Less than an hour later, Damon was helping his brother inside. Stefan was covered in blood, his shirt in tatters and his bare chest covered in trickles and smears of blood. His wrists were caked heavily in gore, thick ropes of scabs still encircling his arms, his healing abilities stretched to the max. The Originals elevated torture to an art form; she supposed she should be grateful there were no intestines showing this time.

She'd been ready for them. Stefan accepted the blood bags she offered him without a word, pulling from his brother's grasp and disappearing upstairs. The pair watched him go, waited until the door shut behind him before they turned to each other. "Can we just save the yelling for tomorrow?" Damon asked wearily. "It's been a fucking long day and I'll still be a dick tomorrow."

Elena nearly bowled him over as she flung heself into his arms. "You _asshole_," she said between kisses. "Don't you _ever _scare me like that again."

Damon staggered under her onslaught, but recovered, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Scare you? You're mad because I scared you?"

More bruising kisses. "Among other things."

"I'll take it," Damon said, returning her kisses with equal ardor. But suddenly he pulled back, frowning. "Um. Elena? Are you aware there are two dead bodies bleeding out on my Persian rug?"

Honestly? She'd nearly forgotten. They were dead and unlamented and there were so many bigger problems like the Originals and Stefan and reassuring herself that Damon was alive and well and whole. "I tried to tell you. I tried to call you a million times," she said.

"Maybe you'd better start at the beginning," Damon said.

"You first," Elena insisted.

A glass of bourbon in one hand a blood bag in the other, Damon told her the story. How they'd cut the sign into twelve stakes. How Stefan had disappeared somewhere between the loft and the Grill. How they'd found that Finn was in town and ambushed him. How Caroline had wounded the eldest Original with a crossbow bolt before Matt finished him off with a stake. How he'd burst into flames as Sage screamed.

They'd discovered Rebekah had been holding Stefan captive at the mansion. "They've been sleeping together," Damon said reluctantly, as if afraid the words might hurt her. "Ever since the night she kidnapped him. Some kind of weird Stockholm shit; I don't know. Inevitably, he did something to piss her off—he still won't tell me the whole story—and she took it out on him. Was trying to bleed the vervain from his system."

Damon explained how he'd come to trade eight of the stakes for Stefan's freedom; how Klaus had compelled Stefan to try to rip himself from the bonds that held him ("Seriously, she used _bear traps_. How fucked up is that?" Damon sounded more than a little impressed at Rebekah's ingenuity), had forced him to reveal that they hadn't given all the stakes back. How they'd been let go with strict orders to return the remaining stakes. How Ric's alter ego had hidden one. How they didn't know what they were going to do now.

It was a lot to take in. Dimly, she was aware that she probably should be upset that Stefan had been sleeping with someone else—and not justanyone else, but Rebekah, that noxious, murderous bitch. Maybe she'd care when there were fewer life-or-death matters on the table, but mostly Elena was concerned about Stefan's judgment rather than offended because he'd moved on. She had. So should he.

"We'll find the stake. We'll find a way. We always do," she reassured him.

"We'll figure something out," Damon agreed. "How did you kill Sage? I know the training's been going well, but fuck, Elena, _I'd _be hard pressed to kill Sage-"

"I didn't kill her. She just...died. They both did."

"What do you mean? Vampires don't 'just die.' That's kind of the point of being a vampire," Damon said as he threw the empty blood bag on the coffee table.

"She did. And so did that Trent guy. Whoever he was," Elena said with a frown.

Damon was suddenly very still. "When did this happen, Elena? When did she get here?"

Elena strained to remember. "I don't know; maybe about ten? After Finn died—when did he die?"

There was no answer. His hand sought hers, clutching it tightly. "Damon," she prompted. "Tell me."

"Finn turned Sage. Sage turned Trent," he said slowly.

In a flash, she understood. She wished she didn't. "The bloodline. When Finn died, it took out his entire bloodline."

"And there's still one stake out there that could destroy another bloodline." Damon didn't need to explain that it could very easily be _his_ bloodline. Damon. Stefan. Caroline. Gone in a single moment.

That wasn't going to happen. They could figure this out. "We'll find it. We'll find it and make sure-" she didn't know what they'd make sure. Make sure they were safe, she guessed. Elena struggled to keep the complex vampiric genealogies straight in her mind. "Katherine turned you and Stefan, and you turned Caroline, technically, I guess, since it was your blood. Who turned Katherine?"

"Rose," Damon said softly.

"Who turned Rose?"

Damon just shook his head, eyes downcast. "Look at me, Damon." Clouded blue eyes met hers, filled with an emotion she'd never seen there before. Fear. It wasn't that Damon hadn't faced death before. But Elena understood. Now he had something to lose. They both did. "We're going to find a way. We always do. We'll find the stake, we'll trace the bloodline, we'll keep you all safe."

Damon mustered a smile, but it was pale and wan. "Turns out being a human was safer, after all."

"Shut up," she said. "Just shut up." She kissed him, and he kissed her back. They made their way up the stairs, and made love as if for the last time.

* * *

><p>Creepy or not, Elena watched him sleep. How could she not? At any moment, blood might spew from his lips, skin turning to ashes, eyes fixed and wide and dark. It wasn't fair; it wasn't right. Damon had spent a century alone, a century of misery and searching and longing, and now, when he'd found what he wanted, gotten what he deserved, everything could end before they could build a life together. It wasn't fair that he could leave her alone, spending the last of her handful of mortal years remembering what she'd lost, wondering what might have been.<p>

Elena eased out of Damon's arms. He stirred unhappily, reaching for her. Elena pressed a kiss to his brow. "Just going to take a bath. Go back to sleep." He murmured something she couldn't make out and burrowed more deeply under the covers. She picked up her purse from the nightstand and made her way to the bathroom. Locked the door behind her.

A strange sense of calm settled over her as she turned the water on, as hot as it could go. She caught a glimpse of her naked body in the mirror, of the faint X that marked her shoulder, marked her as Elena Gilbert, marked her as human. It was faded, its healing hastened by vampire blood, but it was still there, a symbol to cling to. Her fingers ghosted across the ropy scar tissue.

It didn't take long to find the straight razor again. The light glinted across its silver blade. She set it aside and dug through her purse for paper and pen. "You jump, I jump," she wrote in neat cursive. "I love you. See you soon. Elena."

The note left on the vanity, Elena picked up the razor and climbed into the tub, hissing as the hot water scorched her skin. Holding her wrists up to the light, Elena's eye traced the map of tiny blue veins. How could so much be contained in those tiny vessels? Gilbert blood. Petrova blood. Salvatore blood. And somewhere, hidden deep inside, the blood of an Original. Blood that would bind her fate forever to Damon and the rest of the vampire species.

A flick of the wrist opened the straight razor, its blade clouded with steam. This wouldn't solve any problems; she knew that. Two quick cuts would slam a hundred doors closed and open a thousand more. Yes, she'd be strong, fast, eternal. Yes, she'd no longer be the doppelganger. Yes, maybe her friends would be safe from the dangers she brought. But those same friends might never forgive her or understand. Caroline's life had been torn from her—how could she accept that Elena threw hers away with both hands? How would Alaric and Jeremy understand that their love, their broken little family, wasn't enough? How would Stefan react when he learned she'd done this for Damon, when she'd never even considered it for him? Bonnie...Nothing she did would be good enough for Bonnie. She knew that now.

Elena loved them all, but this decision wasn't about any of them. It was about making an informed choice, a decision that would cause unbearable pain, present nearly insurmountable obstacles, and give her exactly what she wanted: A life with Damon, as long as they both survived. It might be a few hours; it might be a thousand years. But it would be together.

Then there was Klaus. Always her decisions now included that fucking hybrid. Klaus would almost certainly try to kill them both in revenge. She was the last doppelganger, after all. When she died, childless, she would be condemning Klaus to walk the world forever alone. He deserved it. But was death at his hands any better than condemning her offspring to become his wards, his blood bags? She could never do that to a child. Let the consequences come. They'd face them together.

She hadn't wanted it to be like this, hiding from Damon, slipping into death alone, no last chance to savor her humanity. But she knew there was no other choice. He would never turn her. Not now. Not with those risks. But this wasn't a decision made from fear. She loved him enough to tether their fates together, forever and always. However long forever was.

The razor clutched in her left hand, she held her wrist beneath the surface. This was it. There was no turning back; no do-overs, no spells would help her if she regretted this choice. Could she do it? Would she still be herself, or would she give in to the dark temptations she knew awaited her on the other side? She caught sight of herself in the mirror, the scar standing out in stark relief to her olive skin. She was Elena Gilbert. She'd get through this. With his help, she'd find a way to survive.

The hot water dulled the pain, but she still stifled a cry as the razor parted her skin, tore through veins and arteries and tendons. Tendrils of blood curled in the water, beautiful and ethereal. She watched, fascinated, before she remembered the job was not done. She struggled to hold the blade in nerveless fingers, but managed a ragged, deep cut in her left wrist. Blood bloomed like roses in the water.

She sank back against the tub, gasping faintly. There was so much blood. How could she have so much blood? Petrova. Gilbert. Salvatore. So much. She couldn't contain it all, it leaked away, pulsing in time to the beat of her heart, at first frantic with fear, but then ever more slowly. Even the pain faded as her heart gave shallow, erratic beats.

The door exploded inward in a shower of splinters. Damon. She tried to smile at him, to tell him that everything was going to be all right, but the muscles in her face wouldn't cooperate. He was pulling her out of the water, and he was saying something, yelling something, crying something, but her ears were ringing and she couldn't hear him. It didn't matter, anyway. It was done. He'd forgive her. He had to.

The world was dim, as if a veil had been thrown over her eyes. Damon was speaking again, his voice pleading. She smelled his blood, sharp and ferrous, before his wrist was slammed against her mouth. Her lips struggled to open, to accept this last gift, but she couldn't. It didn't matter, anyway. All that mattered was that his eyes, blue and glowing with panic and loss and love, were the last things she saw before the veil grew ever darker, and the world disappeared.


	55. Turned

**_Whew. Seems like most of you don't hate me for last chapter. I'm relieved-it was tough to write (as was this one), but it just seemed like the right time. I don't want to go all after school special on you, but I do feel the need to remind everyone that suicide isn't glamorous or beautiful, and if you ever feel the need to cut or otherwise harm yourself, you should talk to a trusted friend or a suicide prevention hotline. We're all good on that, right? Right. Let's get back to it, shall we?_**

* * *

><p><em>The sun was warm. Deep green water cradled her like silk, the gentle current tugging at her hair. Elena wanted to stay here forever, thoughtless and weightless. <em>

_A small wave washed over her body and she lifted her head, searching for its source. A boat floated by, unhurried. A handsome, tanned man sat behind the wheel, guiding the vessel with deft movements. A woman sat on the back of the boat, her legs dabbling in the water as they drifted. Her hair was a dark banner on the breeze as she looked over her shoulder at the man and laughed._

"_Mom? Dad?" Elena said._

_The pair seemed to notice her for the first time. Neither spoke, but their faces split into radiant smiles. Elena began to swim to the boat with strong, sure strokes. But no matter how fast she swam, the boat moved farther and farther away. _

"_Wait! Wait for me," she begged._

_Her father just smiled, that slow, shy smile so like Jeremy's, and shook his head. Her mother blew her a kiss._

_Elena strained after them with all her might, but no matter how fast she swam, the boat moved toward the horizon. Exhausted limbs could swim no more, and she sank beneath the tiny, crested waves. As the water swallowed her, she heard her parents' voices raised in gentle, sweet laughter. _

Limbs thrashed. Lungs burned for air. She had to make it out of these blue-green depths, had to make it to the surface, but something was holding her, stopping her from swimming, from reaching the air and the sun and-

"Calm down, Elena. I've got you," Damon said, every word replete with relief. He was holding her, confining her, stilling her frantic flailing. He sat propped against the headboard of his massive bed and she was curled in his lap, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

Everything was all right. He was here. She was safe. There was no lake, no consuming waters. Her parents were gone, on the other side of some uncrossable divide. Maybe forever. Something within her ached, but then she remembered. They'd smiled. They'd laughed. Maybe it had just been a dream while she'd hung suspended between life and death, but she didn't think so. They'd see her, seen her choice, and given their blessing. She hoped. She prayed.

Elena squinted against the light. The darkness outside the window told her it was still night, yet even the light cast by the bedside lamp was too bright, too crisp. Everything was _too. _

Damon brushed the damp hair from her face. "Welcome back. You fucking idiot," he said affectionately.

"I'm not an idiot. It worked, didn't it?" Her tongue was clumsy. It felt thick, striking her mouth in the wrong places. "Didn't it?" she asked, suddenly uncertain. Had the blood he'd given her that morning after Ric's attack been enough? Or had it been too much, when combined with his frantic last efforts? Had it simply healed her and spit her out the other side unchanged and human? Elena turned her arms over, staring at her wrists. They were seamless and perfect, the same familiar roadway of veins still visible beneath the thin skin.

"You tell me." Damon reached for a glass on the nightstand. Even before it entered her view, the smell struck her. That smell was everything; that smell was life itself. There was an undercurrent of metal, but thousands of contradictory top notes exploded in her nose, in her mouth, nearly overwhelming in their diversity and complexity. It smelled of milk and honey and wine and rot and flowers and meat and stars and sex and death; it smelled of every good thing she'd ever known. Every cell of her body ached for what was in that glass. She burned for it, a throbbing _need _that started in her watering mouth and fell downward to her grasping hands. It further descended to her stomach, hollow with hunger, before finally plunging to a pulsing heat between her thighs. Without a shadow of a doubt, Elena knew she would dissolve into nothingness without that precious substance.

In Damon's hand was a glass of glittering, garnet blood.

"It worked," she breathed, reaching greedily for the glass. Dimly, she was aware that she should be horrified. This was the blood of another thinking, functioning human being, a person who'd thought they were donating to save lives, not to fuel an undead thing. An undead thing like her_. _But that part of her was subsumed by the greater portion of her who wanted to gulp the blood down in great swallows, bathe in the stuff, let it sink into her veins and make her live again. "Give it to me."

But Damon pulled it away, ignoring her protests. "Focus, Elena. There will be time for that, but you need to focus." He took her face in his hands. Only the familiarity of the gesture and the tenderness in his eyes could distract from her need.

"Focused," she promised, covering his hand with one of her own.

"Liar," he smiled. The smile drifted away. "Why did you do it? How could you? Now, of all times."

She blinked at him. "Didn't you see my note? I left it on the-"

"Yeah, I got it. 'You jump, I jump.' But I didn't jump. No one was jumping, and then you went and belly flopped off a cliff," he said, fingers digging into her cheeks.

Truly, Elena tried to focus on Damon. This was serious. She knew all the things she should say, about how she loved him and wanted to be with him forever and always, but she couldn't think of anything besides the precious glass so near at hand. If she could just lean a little farther, she could almost reach it...

She wrenched herself back to the moment. "I love you. I did it because I love you. I want to be with you—really _with _you, as your equal—until the end. Whenever that is. I hope it's not soon; I hope it's not tomorrow. But if it is, it'll be okay. Because we'll go down together, and find each other again on the other side."

Elena could see the mesh of tiny capillaries in the whites of his wide eyes, the delicate veins that carried stolen nourishment. "That," he said slowly, "is the single dumbest thing I've ever heard."

In that moment, Elena knew pain as she'd never known it before. It tore through her, a million times worse than any blade. He hated her, he didn't want to spend forever with her, he wished she'd stayed a disposable human—but he spoke again. "It's also the most amazing thing I've ever heard. I can't believe you would do that. For me," he said wonderingly.

The broken places inside her mended at once. "Of course I would. I love you."

"I love you." He kissed her, slow and lingering. When he pulled away, his face was somber. His eyes lingered on her lips, slowly raising to meet her eyes. "It's not too late to turn back. You can still...you can still go, Elena. I wouldn't blame you. I wouldn't." His voice broke, a wordless little grunt that coming from anyone else would have been called a sob.

Elena didn't understand. What was he talking about? Of course it was too late. _You can still go._ Oh, hell no. After all this, she wasn't going anywhere. "Who are you and what have you done with Damon Salvatore?"

"Be serious, Elena."

"Now I _know _you're not Damon Salvatore. Since when are you ever serious? And since when would you ever let me die?" she asked. Honestly. Of all the times to turn serious—or to grow a conscience—Damon had to choose this one?

"I'd follow you. Once this was over, once I knew Stefan was safe...well, we could find each other that way, too." He swallowed hard, eyes searching hers desperately. "It would be better than watching you tear yourself apart over being a vampire, if this isn't what you want. I thought I could stand you hating me, so long as you were alive. But I can't. I can't have you hating me. Or yourself. I'll still always choose you, it's just...different now. Different choices."

Elena couldn't help but smile. It was her turn to stroke his cheek. "You don't think I thought this through before I climbed into the bathtub with the razor? I'm ready. I'm scared half to death—the other half of me is starving—but I'm ready. I want this. For you. For me. For us."

He struggled for words and came up empty. He kissed her, as he'd kissed her that night on the porch a lifetime ago, as if she were made of glass. "For old time's sake," he murmured. Then he pressed the glass into her waiting hands.

The light glinted through the viscous blood and turned it to rubies. Elena stared into the depths, as if she would see the future there. But the sluggish liquid didn't show her who she'd become once she drank, didn't give any hint of whether she would still be herself. There were no answers there, and the smell kept rolling off the blood in waves and her stomach cramped in hunger. She drank.

Elena nearly spat it out. The cold, thick stuff coated her mouth unpleasantly and tasted...well, it tasted like _blood. _Her stomach roiled, her mostly-human body trying to reject the foreign invader. She coughed, some of the blood splattering her lips and chin. Damon, obviously prepared for every contingency, snagged a white silk handkerchief from the nightstand, delicately dabbing at the red speckles.

"Just choke it down this once, and it'll all change. It'll never be like this again. It'll be...God, I can't even describe it. You'll see. Your body's confused, it doesn't know what it needs. Hold your nose and get it down." His eyes lit up. "Or I could bring you someone-"

Elena slammed the rest of the blood back. It was easier this time, tastes differentiating themselves from the cloying metallic tang. It tasted of green growing things; it tasted of sunshine. It tasted of life. Elena fell forward, her forehead resting on Damon's shoulder. He took the empty tumbler from her, enveloping her in his embrace.

"It's over, right? It's done? I'm a..." No. She had to say the word. This was what she was now. She refused to wind up a broken thing like Stefan, refused to despise what she was. She'd chosen this, chosen the bloodline, chosen the immortality, chosen Damon. She had to accept everything that came with it. "I'm a vampire?" she asked in a small voice.

Damon slid an arm under her knees and rose, holding her effortlessly in his arms. He took a few steps. "See for yourself," he said.

But Elena didn't want to see. It was one thing to do what needed to be done to survive, it was another to see those vampiric features overtake her own, change her. She didn't _feel _any different. Maybe a little tired, a little weak, a little overwhelmed by the light and the sound of their clothes rustling and the breeze outside and the fire crackling below, but she was still herself. How could everything change when she felt so ordinary?

The floor was cold under her feet as Damon stood her upright. He stood between her and the mirror, and she stared fixedly at his chest. She wasn't ready. "I just...I just need a minute. Just give me a-" she broke off in a squeak as Damon buried his face against her hair. He inhaled deeply, savoring her strange new scent.

When he pulled away, his face had changed. Elena stared up at him. For once, she wasn't trying to see past the blood to the man beneath. No, she saw the blood and the veins and saw only a predator. And that feral, beautiful face called to something inside her like a wolf's cry. Their lips collided fiercely, and as her tongue flicked against his fangs, she felt the change as her own predator came to join its mate.

It started with a pressure that built behind her eyes, then crawled down her cheeks. The skin of her face tingled and twitched madly, like the aftershocks of an orgasm. And there was an instant of pain, a tiny rush of blood, and an instant of relief as fangs—_her _fangs—tore free.

Damon's fingers traced her cheekbones, trailed along her lips. "Beautiful," he said simply.

He stepped aside, and Elena caught sight of the two of them in the mirror. She gasped. They _were _beautiful, her body naked and pale against his stark black clothes, both their faces covered in masks of lacy veins, eyes beating red with the blood that sustained them. And when she smiled, her fangs caught the light. She'd once thought him a dark god, a creature spun of fury and vengeance. Now she was every bit the shadowy goddess he deserved.

They groped for each other, but froze before they could reach their destination. There was a sharp rapping on the door. "Everything okay?" Stefan asked. "I just woke up, and I smell blood."


	56. Panicked

It wasn't fair. How could she hyperventilate when she didn't need to breathe anymore? Breathing was a habit Elena hadn't shaken yet, apparently. Just like her habit of taking in deep gulps of air to try to quell the panic that was ripping through her. How could she tell Stefan? And he was just the tip of the iceberg. It would be indescribably awful to see the pain on his face as he realized that Damon hadn't done this _to _her, as he accepted that she had changed her life forever to be with his brother. Elena couldn't see him plunged into another decade of darkness because of her. This was her fault, all her fault, and it was only the beginning.

Once she told Stefan, how did she tell Caroline she'd thrown away her humanity for the man who had used and abused her? How did she confess to Alaric that she'd followed in Isobel's footsteps, begging Damon to turn her? How did she tell Jeremy that he was on his own now, the lone remnant of the Gilbert bloodline? And when Bonnie found out...

Her breath came in short, useless gasps. The veins slithered further down her face, writhing unbearably beneath her skin. Why wouldn't they go away? They had to go away—the fangs, the blood, it all had to go away. She had to tell Stefan, but she couldn't tell him looking like this, couldn't tell him while her blood still collected in sticky pools in the bathroom. She looked up at Damon in desperation.

His face was utterly human. That only made it worse. _Her_ monster wouldn't go away. What had been beautiful only moments before was terrifying and wrong. It had to go away. She opened her mouth to speak, to beg Damon to make it stop, to bring _her _back, but he clamped a hand over her mouth, pressing a silencing finger to his own lips. She bit her lip, tearing twin pinpricks into the delicate flesh. The pain helped. She gave a tiny nod and he released her. They both turned toward the door with wide eyes.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Stefan. Everything's fine," Damon said, somehow able to keep his voice light and mocking. How could he do that at a time like this? Couldn't he see what was happening? What an idiot she was. A goddess? Maybe that's what she saw—what _Damon _saw—but to the rest of the world, she was a disgusting, swollen tick. Even Stefan would look at her with revulsion. She was selfish; she was stupid.

"I don't believe you, Damon. It smells like blood. Elena's blood." The doorknob shook as he tested the door. Thank God it was locked. Of course, that would keep him out for about three seconds if he _really _got concerned. "Are you in there, Elena?"

Oh fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. What did she say? She couldn't lie to him, but she couldn't tell him. Not like this. "Yeah. I'm here. Can you just go downstairs and I'll come down and explain in a minute?" she asked tremulously. Could he tell from her voice? Did she even _sound _different now? She didn't know. Mostly, she just wanted him to go away, just to give her enough time to pull herself together and figure out how she could possibly explain this.

Stefan hesitated. Damon wrapped a supporting arm around her waist. "We're not dressed for company, brother," he drawled playfully, though he cast worried glances down at her. "Go crack open a chipmunk and we'll be down in a sec."

Another pause. "You sure you're okay, Elena?" Stefan called through the door.

"I said I'm fine!" She barked harshly. Damon winced. "Please. I'll tell you everything," she said softly.

Footsteps on the stairs were their only answer. They both stood motionless until they heard Stefan reach the lower floor, heard water pouring into the coffee machine, heard the seal being broken on a new bottle of scotch.

Elena caught sight of herself in the mirror. The dark irises of her eyes had nearly been devoured by the surrounding blood, the veins creeping ever lower on her face in her panic. "Damon-" she whispered.

"Shh," he soothed, ushering her to the edge of the bed. She sat, stifling a whimper. "Shh. You have to calm down."

"I fucking know that, Damon! But I can't calm down until it goes away and it won't go away until I calm down!" she hissed.

He was smiling. That son of a bitch was actually _smiling _at her. Oh, he was trying to hide it behind his hand a little, but that was definitely a fucking smirk. "Glad you find this funny. Glad my panic attack is so amusing."

"Oh, come on. It's not funny; I hate seeing you so upset." He took both her hands in his, pressing kisses to the back of each in turn. His nearness helped, a little. She no longer felt she was going to explode into tiny pieces of terror and rage. Progress. "But there's just a _little_ schadenfreude in watching you find out just how overwhelming vampire emotions are." He grinned more broadly. "Not so easy being me, is it?"

That stopped her. In the immediate aftermath of turning, she'd forgotten that part of it. She'd been so focused on the whole dying part, then the whole blood drinking part, then the whole crazy vamp face part, she'd forgotten that the change wasn't purely physical. There was more to it than that. She stared up at him. "Is it always like this?"

He sat beside her, still holding her hands. She turned to face him. "Yes. It can be overwhelming. Rage. Sadness. Fear. That part sucks. But you also get to feel more happiness." He kissed her cheek. "More love." He kissed just beneath her ear. "More _lust_." She felt his smirk against her neck. "This is living in full color, Elena."

It was a lot. It was a lot to take in. Even in her new, nearly indestructible form, Elena wasn't sure how her skin could contain all these emotions. But if this was going to be her life now—a life of more guilt and more responsibility and more fear—would it be worth it for equal measures of joy and love? It would have to be, wouldn't it?

"Please tell me there's a vampire handbook for all this stuff," Elena said.

"Yep. You're looking at him," Damon said. "Can't _wait _to show you the ropes. But for now, you look pretty human to me."

She turned to the mirror. Sure enough, the predator was gone, hibernating for now. Leave it to Damon to distract her, even in her darkest moments. She hadn't thought it was possible to love him more than he had, but she was beginning to suspect she'd find a way.

"How do we tell him?" she asked. _Hi, Stefan. I love your brother so much I died for him. Please don't decapitate anyone. By the way, got any blood? Super parched right now_.

"Well, the first step is getting dressed. The naked thing might be awkward. For him; it's never awkward for me."

Elena managed a smile. She wanted to laugh, but knew she wasn't going to be able to until this was done. She rose and began digging through the closet, searching for whatever odds and ends of clothing she'd left here. She located a hoodie. Jeans. A pair of Converse sneakers.

"Nudity problem solved. Now what?" Elena asked as she found a bra and underwear in a drawer.

Damon sighed. He reached for her abandoned glass of blood and drained the last lingering drops. "We tell him the truth. And we tell him together. I don't know what else we _can _do."

"I don't want to hurt him," Elena said as she pulled her jeans on.

"But we already have," Damon said with a sad smile. "The hurting part's over. He just doesn't know it yet."

"Comforting," she said. She looked in the mirror. Normal. A little pale, but she doubted anyone except Caroline would notice her pallor.

"Just the truth, babe. You ready?"

"No." She headed for the door.

Damon beat her there, pulling the door open. "Yeah. Me neither."

They walked down the stairs hand in hand. Stefan was waiting with a scowl. "Took you long enough."

"You coulda used the time to get rid of the stiffs," Damon said , nudging the gray, crumbling corpses on the rug. "It'd be nice if you'd help with the body disposal every once in a while, Stef."

"It'd be nice if you explained why Sage and the guy who used to work reception at the Mystic Falls Blood Bank are dead," Stefan returned.

Well, that explained how Sage had found the poor bastard, anyway. "A lot happened last night, Stefan. After Finn died, Sage and that guy came here for revenge. But before they could do anything, they just dropped dead."

Stefan's eyebrows rose. "Vampires don't drop dead."

"Exactly what I said," Damon said. "Except it turns out they do, if the originator of their bloodline is, say, stabbed with a white oak stake by a busboy."

They watched as the light bulb went off in Stefan's head. "That's bad," he said.

"Ever the master of the obvious," Damon said. "But it gets better. You know that last stake we were supposed to take back to Rebekah and Klaus? The only weapon left on the planet that can kill an Original? Yeah, Ric's inner Hannibal Lecter came out to play again. We don't know where it is."

Stefan sat back, trying to process all this information. Good. Keep him distracted with all the life-altering vampire bloodline stuff. Maybe that would soften the blow. Unlikely, but Elena had to hope for something. She fidgeted.

"None of that explains why the house reeks of Elena's blood. That wasn't a paper cut." Stefan leaned forward, brow furrowed even more than usual. "You can tell me if he hurt you, Elena."

Damon just rolled his eyes, far too accustomed to his brother's recriminations. But Elena snapped. "Damon has done everything possible to protect me. And some things that were _im_possible. Everything that happened is on me. It's all because of me. It's all my fault."

"What are you talking about?" Stefan flicked his eyes to Damon. "What's she talking about?"

"She made her own choice, Stefan," Damon said ambiguously.

"Just tell me," he half-ordered, half-begged.

Part of Elena wanted to give the whole explanation. To tell him that it had been a decision they'd been considering, that it was a decision born of thought and love and agony, that it had been the right decision, to choose to enter that endangered bloodline. But in the end, she didn't owe him an explanation. She only owed him the truth. "I turned."

The world fell silent. Then the world exploded. Stefan had her by the throat, pinning her against the wall. "Katherine," he snarled. "What did you do, Katherine?"

Stefan staggered back as Damon's fist connected with his jaw, leaving Elena to stumble, coughing. The pain in her throat would have been unbearable as a human, but she could already feel tiny crushed and broken _things _in her throat shifting and mending. Damon wound up for another blow, but Elena shoved him in the chest. She'd just been trying to get his attention, but Damon flew through the air, stopped only when he struck the couch.

The boys stared. Well. That was new. But who cared right now? There would be time for fun with superpowers later, but for right now, she had to get Stefan to accept that this was real. This was her. This was her choice. Elena offered Damon a hand up.

"That's gonna take some getting used to," he muttered.

Elena didn't answer. She tore her hoodie off and yanked back the shoulder of her T-shirt. "Remember this?" she asked, looking at Stefan over her shoulder. His eyes were locked on the jagged X carved into her flesh.

"You told me...you told me to look for the X. So I'd know it was you," he whispered.

"I'm not Katherine. Never have been, never will be." She shrugged her shirt back on.

Tears prickled in Stefan's eyes. "Why?"

"Because I love him." Elena couldn't stand to see him cry, to see his hurt and confusion. She approached him, slowly, as she might approach a kicked, beaten dog. "And I loved you. You know that."

"But not enough. You didn't love me enough to do this," Stefan said bitterly. "I never would have asked you to."

"And that's the difference," she said softly. "Damon didn't have to ask." Once, Damon had tried to turn her to keep her alive. Once, she had begged to turn to protect the ones she loved. But the final choice hadn't been about life or death; hadn't been about anyone but her. It was a choice to stay with the person she loved most, no matter what. And Stefan would never understand that.

Damon came to stand at her side, his presence solid and comforting. She wanted badly to take his hand, to draw strength from him, but she couldn't. That might be the final straw that sent Stefan spinning off into despair and rage. This had been her decision; ultimately, the consequences were hers and hers alone.

But Stefan wasn't looking at her right now. He was staring at his brother. If looks could kill, Damon would be six feet under. But there was something tender in his eyes, too. "You can't leave her. You can't get tired of her. What she did for you..." He shook his head. "You saw where it got Sage. Promise me you'll take care of her."

There wasn't a trace of mockery or a hint of irony on Damon's face as he answered. "I love her. I'm not going anywhere."

Stefan nodded. His eyes were still too bright, but he wasn't throwing punches. Wasn't screaming. He was functioning. Surviving. Oh, he hurt. Elena could see that plain as day. But Stefan always hurt.

Impulsively, she drew him into a hug. "Someone will love you enough. Someone will love you as you should be loved."

Stefan didn't return the hug, but he didn't flinch away. "Take care of him, too."

"We'll take care of each other." She released him.

"I need to go. Clear my head. Find that stake," Stefan said. "And you two need to figure out what you're going to do about Klaus."

The door shut behind him, and Damon and Elena collapsed on the couch. "One throttling and one punch? I think that was the best Salvatore family meeting ever," Damon said.

"He's going to be okay. I think that night at Bonnie's house...I think he let me go." Maybe before then, maybe since he'd started sleeping with Rebekah, maybe even when he'd first left Mystic Falls and surrendered to Klaus and to the blood. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that one day, he found some modicum of peace. Maybe even a little happiness.

"I hope you're right. God, I hope you're right. For his sake," he sighed. "But in the meantime, he's got a point. Klaus isn't going to be happy about losing his hybrid machine, and we can't kill him now, seeing as he might be our great-great-great grand vampire."

"You're right. I was thinking-" Her stomach rumbled. "It still does that? There isn't even anything to digest."

"Everything works pretty normally. Even the gross stuff," he said.

"I better go get a blood bag," she said, climbing to her feet. "Caroline said she likes B-positive. What's your poison?"

"My poison doesn't come in a bag." He wrapped an arm around her waist, steering her to the door. "C'mon. We're going _out._"


	57. Hunted

_Amazingly, this chapter is going to push us over the 100,000 word mark. Look at all those zeroes. One day and one chapter at time, we're getting there. I can't believe all of you have been willing to stick with this novel-length monster, but I'm so glad you have. The reviews and alerts brighten my day, as I hope this story brightens yours. But you don't want to hear me natter on. You want to see what happens when Damon and Elena are on the prowl._

* * *

><p>Roanoke was a strange place. While at its soul it was a sleepy mountain town, it bustled with students from nearby Hollins University. It seemed as if everyone had been here forever, yet might drift away at any moment, never to be seen again.<p>

It was the perfect hunting ground.

At first, after they'd made a brief detour to dispose of Sage and her progeny (if anyone ever drained the quarry, they were screwed), Damon had suggested heading into Mystic Falls proper. Elena had vetoed that idea quickly. What if someone saw her? Elena was still figuring out how she was going to explain this period, let alone trying to explain it when she had a mouthful of bar floozy. Worse, she couldn't stand to hurt someone she knew. Mystic Falls was a small town. Even if Elena didn't know everyone personally, chances were she knew their family, had gone to school with their brother or gone to church with their aunt. No, she'd demanded anonymity, and Damon had obliged her, driving an hour through the dark foothills to get here.

"I don't know about this," Elena said as Damon hunted for a parking space in the crowded downtown area. It was crawling with tourists gaping at the Roanoke Star as it cast sickly light down over the town from its mountain perch, mingled with students on the prowl for a good time.

"Just come along for the ride. If you don't want to eat, you don't have to. You'll be missing out, though. The mountain air does something to the blood. It's almost..._fizzy,_" he said as he maneuvered into a parking space.

"First, that sounds really nasty. Second, these are people you're talking about, Damon. People with lives and families-"

"And pet kittens and hopes and dreams. You know, the cow in your hamburger probably had hopes and dreams, too. You just didn't have to watch as he turned into ground beef. That's the only difference here, Elena," Damon said.

Elena sputtered. "There's a lot of difference between a person and a cow. Even you can't pretend they're the same."

"Of course they aren't the same; poor Bessie had to die for your meal. _We _aren't going to kill anyone."

Elena threw up her hands in exasperation, and Damon caught one between both of his own, that playful smirk fading. "I promised that you could do this your way. And you can. As long as you aren't on the cottontail diet, I'm happy. But you should see this option. This is what you were made for."

Fire raced down her spine. The barest ache began to form in her canines, a sweet longing that begged to be released. Elena knew she would never be able to see people as animals, as creatures who existed purely for her sustenance. But she wanted to at least see. Even if she stood to one side and didn't join in, the curiosity to see Damon in action was unbearably tempting.

"You'll stop me? If I do...you'll stop me?" Elena asked, voice trembling. She hoped that she could be content merely to observe, but when she remembered that incredible need she'd felt for a cold glass of week-old blood when she wasn't even a full vampire yet, she wasn't sure she could be strong enough. And maybe Damon was right, just a little. Didn't she owe it to herself to try, just once? She never had to do it again if she didn't want to.

"Yes." He smiled, poking her in the sternum with one finger. "Even if it doesn't beat, you've still got that do-gooder heart in you. I don't want to see that disappear either, Elena."

"Okay. If you promise. Then I'll come. At least to watch," she said haltingly.

Damon leaned in, pressing a kiss to the place on her neck where once her own blood had pulsed and raced. Now it was still and silent, but his lips still sent a thrill through her. "It'll be fun. Feeding together...well. You'll see."

They stepped out of the car. Immediately, sensory overload stretched her, made every muscle in her body tense and coil, ready to pounce. Dozens of new inputs bombarded her. Smells came fast and furious, and not just the normal smells of cologne and cheap beer. Two women blowing plumes of smoke into the night reeked of sex, their scents mingled together. An exhausted man leaning against the wall of the bar, his pale face in his hands, reeked of rot and corrupted flesh. She was instinctively aware of the direction of the breeze, knew she had to stay downwind to avoid being scented herself, to avoid giving the game away.

Sounds were more distinct, faint vibrations from great distances reaching her ears. Every awful pickup line, every burst of laughter slammed into her ears. But undercutting it all was a constant thrum, a rhythmic cacophony of heartbeats, a gentle _swish _she realized was the sound of blood running in veins, billions of tiny rushing rivers.

Everything around her teetered just on the edge of overwhelming her, but somehow, she was able to sort through the millions of sensations, smells, sights, sounds. Her body knew how to do this. If she let it—and Damon—take the lead, Elena thought she might just be able to get through this. "How do we start?" she asked.

Damon slipped an arm around her waist and drew her down the crowded sidewalk. Music thumped out of the clubs, the bass reverberating in her chest. No one paid them any mind. They were just another couple out for a good time. Nothing to be concerned about.

Fools.

"Which one do you want?" Damon asked quietly. "They're all yours—all ours. They just don't know it yet." The masses of humanity parted around them. "Which one? Her?" He nodded to a woozy blond plodding along the sidewalk, shoes in her hand. "Him?" A tall man, shoulders slumped, leaving the bar alone.

Elena surveyed the crowd. Most were in pairs or groups of three or four. Once, she wouldn't have given these people a second glance. But now her eyes followed the groupings, watched the girl who lagged a step behind her prettier friends, watched the boy who lingered on the fringes of conversations, hovering like a ghost. It would be so easy to slide up to that boy, flash him a dazzling smile, lead him into a quiet corner and then...

"Him. I want him." He was scarcely older than she was, maybe nineteen, with a shock of sandy hair and a wide, guileless face. He hadn't quite grown into his lanky frame yet, didn't seem sure what to do with his hands or his feet, like some great gawky bird. After a moment of experimentation, Elena was able to home in on him and him alone. His heart kept a steady beat, almost bored in its lackadaisical rhythm. The blood ran freely in his veins, thinned ever-so-slightly with a few drinks. Elena wanted him.

Damon considered the boy, head canted to the side. "Interesting choice. But you'll have to go reel him in. If you wanna choose someone of the female persuasion, I'll do the honors myself. Or I could compel him, I guess, but that seems like cheating."

The boy was hers. He just didn't know it yet. Elena couldn't take her eyes off him as he laughed awkwardly at one of his friend's jokes, stealing a glance at the time on his cell phone. The laughter made his heart flutter in a way that made her stomach and points lower cramp in anticipation. "I'll do it," she breathed. "Where do I take him?"

"Two blocks. One north, one west. It's quiet there. We won't be disturbed." He squeezed her waist once and released her. "I'll be watching. If you need anything, say the word."

Elena nodded absently. A breeze brushed her face and he was gone. She made a note to ask him exactly how that worked. But for right now, all that really mattered were her and this boy. She sidled up to him, waited for him to notice her. It didn't take long.

"Hey," he said. He was looking over her shoulder, frowning. Elena knew that look. He was searching for a boyfriend. Wouldn't he be surprised.

"Hey yourself. I'm Elena," she said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Brandon. It's nice to meet you," he said politely. "You look like a Hollins girl."

"Oh, um, no. I'm not in college yet. I'm here on a campus visit. Sort of." Great job, Elena. Just fall all over your words there. Idiot. But this close to him, she could actually see the veins quivering beneath his skin, trace the line of blue that led to his heart and the lines of red that led away from it. Elena felt a familiar pressure building behind her eyes, and struggled to focus. Not yet. She couldn't show her hand yet. She rubbed at her eyes briskly, and the pressure eased, lurking just out of reach.

"If I were you, I'd go anywhere else. It's so boring here," he said with a sigh.

"Maybe you and I could make it a little more exciting? Just for tonight?" Elena felt ridiculous. Sex kitten was not her style. And she didn't _look _the part in her jeans and hoodie. But she was probably the only girl who'd talked to this lonely boy all night. And he ate it up. "I know a place nearby. You could buy me a drink."

He smiled, completely without pretense. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."

They walked away from the noise and into the darkness. Elena marveled at the night. It wasn't that the night was bright, it was simply that shapes which once would have been shrouded in shadows became distinct and crisp. A bat winging on the wind, a woman peering out of darkened windows, the pulse in Brandon's wrist, all were plain as the nose on her face.

They spoke of trifles, of nothing as they walked. Brandon worked in a factory but hated it, like he hated this town, dreamed of going somewhere bigger, somewhere exciting. Elena urged him to follow his dream, to go to the city and live the life he wanted. She was almost able to forget the way his pulse hammered in her ears as they walked. Until Damon melted out of the shadows.

The block he'd directed them to was abandoned—a few old warehouses, but mostly a wasteland of broken bottles and used condoms. Damon approached them, hands dug into his pocket, tongue darting over his lips. "Evenin'."

"Uh, hi," the boy said. He frowned, noticing where they were. "Where are we going, Elena? There's nothing here."

"Oh, you've found the right place. This is party central," Damon smirked, his eyes hard.

Elena didn't want this. This poor kid had to be at his shift at the factory in ten hours; he had a dream to pursue in some big city, making music or going to school or just being happy. And they were just going to attack him in this alleyway and send him on his way like it was nothing? "No, it isn't. You should go, Brandon. You were right, I was...confused. There's nothing here."

"I'm just gonna go." His heart was racing now, a hum that echoed in Elena's bones. Elena caught a familiar scent on the breeze. It was her. This boy's fear excited her, shamed her. She wanted to suck him dry; she wanted him to run for his life. He turned, but then Damon was in front of him.

"Aw, c'mon, Brandon. I know you weren't expecting to see _me _here, but there's no reason we can't all have a good time, is there?" Elena couldn't see Damon's eyes, but she didn't need to. Brandon's heart rate plummeted back to its calm, steady beat. Part of her missed the thrill of his fear.

"We should let him go. Just let him walk away. Please." Her mouth said all the right things, but she moved closer to the boy.

Damon looked at her with half-hooded eyes. His tongue darted out, moistening a patch on the boy's throat. His pulse danced. Elena couldn't look away.

"I'm not really into that, man," Brandon said, only moderately perturbed by the strange man licking his neck.

"You are tonight. Now shut up," Damon ordered. The boy fell silent. Then there was no need for words.

A drop of Damon's blood floated to her on the breeze as his fangs broke free. Instantly, it was devoured by the overwhelming, contradictory, delicious aroma of the boy's blood. Damon moaned against the boy's neck, then threw his head back, the faintest rim of scarlet painting his lips. He laughed into the night. "_Good _choice. You have to try this."

She didn't want to. He was so young. He had a name. He had a family. But his labored heart and his gasping breaths sang to her, enticed her.

Before she'd made a conscious decision, she stood beside the boy. Her fingers stroked his neck, fascinated at the complex network there, the way the veins quivered as they attempted to make up for the blood that was draining away.

"Drink," Damon ordered. And she did.

Elena plunged her fangs into the boy's neck to their very hilt, crying out at the sheer pleasure of penetrating him, owning him. Then the blood was rushing into her mouth and she was sucking, nipping, lapping at his neck. Anything to get that blood to flow more quickly, to devour more and more. This was nothing like the bagged stuff. This was warm and vital, tasting of nothing she'd experienced as a human. It warmed her, pooled deep in her belly, raced through her limbs and for a moment, made her heart seem to beat again.

Damon came to stand behind her, and she ground her hips against him in an unconscious movement that made them both moan. He stroked her hair. "That's it. Listen to his heart. Do you hear how it hitched? Every time it does that, you're bringing him one step closer to the brink."

She heard it. Heard the weakness, the languor that seemed to have consumed the muscle. But she didn't care. None of that mattered. All that mattered was this blood, this communion. She drank and drank, lips smacking obscenely against his flesh. The boy was silent.

"That's enough. Right there, that pace? That's when you know you have to stop," Damon said. He moved to the boy's other side, beginning to tug him from her arms. "Let him go, Elena."

She didn't want to. There was still more, still more that belonged to _her. _Every time his heart skipped a beat, every time it slowed a fraction more, Elena's thighs clenched. He was dying so she could live. What could be more beautiful than that? He was a purposeless, sad thing. She was helping him, and he'd live on in her and she didn't want to stop.

"Elena!" Damon succeeded in tearing the boy from her arms, and she reached for him with a wordless animal cry, the loss of that warmth and that comfort and that _life _nearly sending her to her knees in despair. "That's enough."

But it would never be enough. Even if she drained this boy dry, drained his entire family, this entire town, it would never be enough. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. I didn't want to. Oh, God." How could she have given in? No. She could have killed him, had wanted him to die sweetly in her arms. Elena's hands fluttered to her face, and came away sticky with blood. It was everywhere.

"Don't be dramatic; there's nothing to be sorry for. He's gonna be fine." Damon eased the limp boy to the ground and started to bring his own wrist to his mouth.

"No. I did this. I have to fix it." As much as she wanted to curl up in the corner, to let Damon take responsibility for her, this was _her _hunt. She had to finish this.

The pain barely registered as Elena bit into her own wrist. She knelt over the boy, cradling his face with one hand. "Thank you," she said. Elena pressed her wrist to his mouth, let her blood nourish him, completing the circle. He drank. Elena stroked his cheek as the circular holes in his neck knit together.

She pulled away, and just as she had, he struggled to grab her wrist again. "No. Brandon, you don't want any more of that." Elena felt a strange _push _from behind her eyes, and the boy immediately stopped his attempt to reclaim her wrist. Elena blinked up at Damon. "It's that easy?"

He just nodded, eyes unreadable in the darkness. She turned back toward him. "You're going to go home. Get a good night's sleep. Take a vitamin. In the morning, you're going to put in notice at the factory. And you're going to do what you want to do. And you're going to try your hardest to be happy."

"Very noble, Elena, but remind him that he isn't going to remember any of this while he's off chasing his dreams," Damon said drily.

"Oh. Right." Stolen blood flushed in her cheeks. She'd forgotten that part. "You won't remember any of this. You went out. You had fun. You got tired and went home. Do you understand?"

"I understand. I think I'm gonna go to Chicago," he said thoughtfully.

Elena couldn't believe how simple it was. She just had to _want _something, then tell someone? It was so simple. It was so dangerous. "Good. Now go home, Brandon." She stood, offering him a hand up. He accepted. "And thank you."

"Sure, I gotta go find my friends. See ya." He waved and trotted back toward the busy bar district.

For a mad instant, Elena wanted to run after him, grasp him by the hair and tear his throat open and dance in the scarlet geyser. But Damon had his arms around her, and she relaxed against him. She had enough for now. Enough to survive, enough to continue to live and fight. It would have to be enough.

"Welcome to my world, Elena."


	58. Devastated

After Brandon headed back to the bright lights and constant hum of the crowd, they followed. Without fanfare, Damon selected a pretty little brunette. A few whispered words drew her away from her friends and into a darkened corner. Elena drifted after them. Damon pulled the girl flush against his body and sank his fangs into her neck without warning. She cried out once, pleasure as much as pain, but the cry was lost in the thump of music and the babble of voices. Damon never took his eyes from Elena as the girl jerked and thrashed in his arms. Once, Elena would have been jealous at the way Damon's arms wrapped around the young woman, the way her body ground against his, but those blue eyes made it clear there was only one woman on his mind.

Healing the girl and compelling her took only a moment, and then they were back in the Camaro and whizzing north on I-81. Silence reigned. Elena had far too many thoughts to even begin to put them into words, and Damon respected her need for quiet.

Everything was upside down and inside out and backward. Elena had just drunk blood from an unwilling donor, compelled him and sent him on his anemic way. She'd watched Damon do the same, and had thought only of how much she longed to join him, latch onto the girl's neck and, together, drain her until her veins collapsed on themselves and her skin turned to milky white, then to make love as the light faded from the girl's eyes. Any one of those experiences should have sent her into paroxysms of guilt.

"How do you know if the switch is off?" she asked. The worst of it was that she _didn't _feel guilty. Ironically, her lack of remorse over what they'd—she'd-done to Brandon made her miserable. She should feel bad. She should care. The old Elena would have cared. The old Elena wouldn't have done it at all. But what had she really done? The boy wouldn't remember a thing. With vampire blood coursing through his veins, he was probably healthier today than he'd been yesterday. And he had a new lease on life, a new drive to accomplish his goals and be someone. In return, he'd endured a flash of fear and a split second of pain. Was that really so wrong?

It would have been a different story if she'd given in to that dark urge to take and take until only empty vessels remained. Elena knew there were lines she was not willing to cross—not now, not ever. But to take only what she needed, to do as little harm as possible, to send these people on their way as good, if not better, than she'd found them...

No. She was attacking them, stealing from them. It was unequivocally wrong. Maybe she'd somehow flipped the switch out of self-preservation during her meltdown in the bedroom. Maybe that was why the guilt wouldn't come now, no matter how hard she tried to feel it, searched for it deep in the recesses of her heart. There was still all the usual guilt there, perhaps even stronger than usual—hurting Stefan, sending Jeremy away, her crumbled friendship with Bonnie and a thousand other transgressions. But for this? Not a shred.

"If you have to ask, it isn't," Damon replied.

"Oh." That was a relief, she supposed. She needed to feel, needed to remember everything. But everything was dreamlike and unreal, yet so vital and true at the same time. Nothing made sense. Maybe she was just tired. It had been a long day, after all—being attacked by Ric, being attacked by Sage, dying, turning, confronting Stefan, her first hunt. Maybe the strange lack of sentiment toward Brandon could be laid at the feet of exhaustion. Somehow, she doubted it.

"You doing okay?" He rested his hand on her knee, a gesture of wordless comfort.

"I shouldn't be okay. But I think I am." She leaned across the center console, head resting against his shoulder. "Does that make me a bad person?"

He chuckled, rich and low. "Hardly. You spent too much time with my brother, Elena. Only the two of you would feel guilty for not feeling guilty."

Elena couldn't help but laugh. "Poor Stefan."

"Poor Stefan my ass. Please tell me you aren't going to turn all mopey on me. I don't insist on complete hedonism—though man, would _that _be fun—but I do ask that you don't start brooding. Besides, it'll give you wrinkles." He furrowed his brow by way of demonstration.

"Doesn't suit you," she said.

"You're telling me, honey. But Elena, however you feel about this? It isn't wrong. Whatever you're feeling is exactly the right thing to feel. For you. I know how _I _feel about it, but that isn't really important right now." He took the exit for Mystic Falls.

"Of course it is. What do you feel about it?" she asked, curious.

"Besides the fact that it was the single hottest thing I've ever seen and my balls may have exploded at one point?" He grinned at her, and she pursed her lips, waiting for him to be serious. She wasn't going to let him get away with that glib response, true as it may be. He sighed and ran his hands along the steering wheel as he searched for the right words.

"I felt-God, I hate that fucking word. I'm not supposed to _feel _anything," he muttered. "But you throw the rulebook out the window, I guess. Seeing you back there, for the first time, you looked...free." He considered that, then nodded. "Yeah. Free."

"Huh?" Whatever she'd expected him to say, that wasn't it.

"You always hold back. And I mean, it makes sense. You can't go all in when you expect everyone around you to die horribly. Defense mechanism. I get it. I spent a hundred years getting it. But tonight, you weren't holding anything back. Not from yourself, not from me, not even from little Brandon. You weren't thinking, you just _were. _It was good to see you let go, to see those parts you've tried to hide from everyone." A beat. "So there's my pussy answer. But the sexy thing is still true. It was _very _sexy."

The Camaro hugged the curves of the road, live oaks with their draperies of Spanish moss encroaching on their path, sweeping branches dipping low overhead.

There had been a time when Elena had been free. Or she'd pretended to be, anyway, ignoring the darkest parts of her to play the part of the carefree cheerleader. It had been a facade, but a good one. One even she'd believed. After the accident, it had gotten even worse as she'd she'd erected careful defenses around herself, locking more and more of herself away. It was the only way to survive, the only way to keep from succumbing to despair. If you kept people at arm's length, then the pain of losing them would be just as distant. Damon had breached nearly every wall she'd built, but through it all, Elena had clung to her inner sanctum, concealing parts of her she hadn't even wanted to admit existed. It was exhausting. But death changed everything. There was nothing to lose. No need to hide. No need for pretense. Tonight, the last walls had crumbled. There was nothing to hold back, not even the wild, animal parts of herself, the parts that weren't good and sweet and kind and forgiving. Damon had seen those hidden places for the first time, and he hadn't flinched away. Perhaps neither should she.

Elena shook out of her reverie. "Astute observation, Mr. Salvatore."

"I've got more astute observations than I know what to do with. Oh, I've got something for you, too." They drew up to the boarding house and he shifted into park. Squirming to one side, he dug into his pocket and produced a simple silver ring, traces of a delicate vine etching peeking out through the heavy tarnish.

Elena recoiled. "That's Sage's ring." She hadn't seen him pry the ring from Sage's cold, shriveled finger, but there was no doubt where it had come from.

"This is Sage's _day walking_ ring." Damon pointed to the east, where the tiniest rim of pale blue on the horizon heralded the dawn. "Since neither of us are on speaking terms with the only witch in town, this will have to work for now. It beats bursting into flames."

Elena's skin crawled. Not just because the ring had come from a corpse, but because the ring had come from _Sage._ She slid the ring onto the ring finger of her right hand. The ring was cold. Elena hated it. But now wasn't the time to be picky.

"When this is over, I'll get you something new. Maybe a belly button ring. That'd be classy," Damon said as they climbed out of the car. "But for right now, we probably should be hunting for the stake. Or formulating a plan B. Or something. Because now that I've got you, I don't intend to let you get away because your ancestors were Council-hating dicks."

A bucket of ice water dashed the feeble happiness she'd kindled. Of course. How could she forget? It was the reason she'd turned, after all. But she'd been self-absorbed and stupid. They had to find the stake. "The stake. Yeah. Nothing else matters but that." She glanced down at her hoodie, dotted here and there with the rusty remains of her dinner. "Just let me change clothes and we'll go find Ric and Stefan."

"No rush. I want to look through some books. See if I can get a clue about who turned Rose. I mean, we still have two stakes. No reason two Originals can't go down, if we can figure out how not to kill ourselves in the process." They stepped onto the front porch. Damon started to unlock the door, but Elena stepped in front of the keyhole.

"But if you kill two Originals, every vampire they created will die," she said.

Damon blinked. "So? What's your point?"

"That's...that's _genocide, _Damon." No one wanted Rebekah and Klaus dead more than she did. No one. But there were other vampires out there like her. Like Damon. Like Caroline and Stefan. Vampires who managed to be more-or-less good people. Who were they do snuff them out in a moment just to save their own skins?

"They're already dead. And you don't know them anyway, so who cares? There's only one bloodline that matters, and that's ours. It saves you, me, Stefan and Caroline. Everyone else can go to hell." Damon seemed baffled that Elena would give those anonymous vampires a second thought.

Elena shook her head. "Let's just find the other stake, then we can worry about what we're going to do with it." She stepped aside to let him unlock the door, but he hesitated, giving her a measuring look.

"There isn't some fucking fraternal brotherhood of vampires, Elena. Don't fool yourself. Anyone outside our happy little vampire commune would kill you out without a second thought," he said, pushing the door open.

"I'm not most vampires, Damon. We have to be better than the rest of them are."

Damon took two steps into the house and froze. "What? Move, Damon," she said, nudging him aside with her hip. Then it was her turn to freeze.

Bonnie stood in the dim room, illuminated by the dying embers of the fire. Long shadows danced across her face, but there was no hiding that mask of grief and rage. Her hands were clenched into fists at her side.

"Not like most vampires, Elena?"

"Bonnie, I can explain-" she started. But unimaginable pain threatened to split her head in two. She collapsed to the ground, dimly aware of Damon's body falling beside her. Elena wasn't sure which was worse: the physical pain that threatened to devour her, or the look of utter devastation on Bonnie's face.


	59. Destroyed

_This chapter...is a little intense. I know we've gone through Damon's guts being sprawled around like confetti and a graphic vampire feeding, but this one is still pretty gory. Just a heads up, in case you want to finish eating before reading. I know this is a short chapter, but this is where the chapter naturally broke, so I decided not to fight it. Stick around, folks-we're going down the rabbit hole._

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><p>The pain crested and broke in waves, bubbles of molten lava expanding and growing in her skull before exploding in an orgy of agony. It repeated in an endless repetition until only the pain existed, eternal and perpetual.<p>

Gentle hands cradled her face, brushed the hair from her eyes. The pain stopped. "Elena, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry he did this to you." Bonnie drew her close, holding her as if she were a small child.

The pain receded, the sensation a faded memory already. A few feet away, Damon lay curled on his side, tiny animal grunts and twitches his only sign of life. Somehow, Bonnie continued her assault against his mind even as she rocked Elena in her arms.

"Bonnie, please. Stop it," Elena said. Her voice was rough. She tasted bitter bile.

"Shh. It's okay. Or it will be. It'll all be okay soon," Bonnie said. "We'll get through this. Just like we did with Caroline, we'll get through this."

What the hell was going on? Bonnie was almost too calm about this, too supportive. Of all people, Elena had not expected _Bonnie _to be the one to hold her and tell her everything was going to be all right. It was creepy. "It'll be fine as soon as you stop hurting him. Please, Bonnie. Look at him."

Elena pulled herself from Bonnie's arms, coming to kneel beside Damon. Blood dripped from his eyes, his nose, his ears, as if his brain was literally melting under the relentless aneurysms. He couldn't _really _die from them, could he? What if the spell wore away at him until there was nothing left? The feeble twitches had ceased, leaving him in a grim catatonia, face ashen beneath the bloody streaks. "You have to stop this."

Bonnie looked at Damon. Her eyes turned to stone, hard and unfeeling as agates. "No."

"What do you mean, 'no'? You made your point, now back off," Elena said, trying to wipe some of the blood from Damon's face. He'd be okay. Of course he'd be okay. Bonnie was just...displaying her displeasure. She'd done it before, she'd probably do it again. She'd let Damon get up, they'd exchange pithy words, and everything would be fine. Hell, at least Bonnie wastalking to her now. That was a definite improvement. Damon would heal. Fine. Everything would be fine.

"I came here to try to apologize. I miss you, Elena. I thought we could get through this, because our friendship matters more to me than anything. And I was right—_we _can get through anything. He's the problem." Bonnie rose from her crouch, eyes still fixed on Damon. "Get away from him."

"I'm not going anywhere." She leaned down, shielding Damon with her own body. They'd been through this song and dance before. How many times had Bonnie tried to kill Damon? It hadn't happened before. It wouldn't happen today. "A lot's happened between you and Damon. I know that-"

"He's taken everyone from me." Bonnie's voice cracked, her face a study in desolation. "Everyone I love is _gone _because of him. He sent Jeremy away. He murdered Grams. He turned Caroline and even fucking Abby. Now you. I'm all alone, Elena. He's left me all alone."

"But you aren't alone. I'm still here. I'm still me. Caroline, too. Abby will come around, Jeremy will come back. You aren't alone. We'll be okay, Bonnie. All of us will be okay," Elena pleaded.

Maybe she should have argued that none of those things were really Damon's fault. Perhaps Grams, but ultimately, her heart had simply stopped, as human hearts are wont to do. He'd tried to save Caroline by feeding her his blood; who could have foreseen Katherine? He'd turned Abby to save his brother, and done his best to preserve her life. Abby hadn't even deserved that kindness, the coward. As for Jeremy, Damon had merely been the instrument. But this was not the time for logic. This was a time to comfort her friend, talk her off the ledge and make her stop hurting Damon before it was too late.

But Bonnie shook her head. "He took everything," she repeated. "He has to pay. For all the lives he's taken, he has to pay. The balance must be restored." She extended her hands. "Move. I don't want to hurt you. But I will."

Damon was so still. Without a heartbeat, without the rise and fall of breath, how could she tell if he was dead? His skin hadn't turned gray, his veins hadn't risen like scars. She had to believe he was fine, and that he would be fine. Bonnie wouldn't really hurt her to get to Damon. She wouldn't. Not the sweet girl Elena loved. Elena lowered herself until chest rested against Damon's too-still body. "Do what you have to do."

She should have been afraid. Some part of her was, but not for herself. Dying...well, she'd been there, done that. Twice. The idea of _Damon _dying was an infinitely more terrifying idea, but as long as they went down together, it'd be all right. That's what she'd signed up for, after all. If Bonnie didn't kill them, Klaus would. If Klaus didn't kill them, the evil of Alaric's ring would. Death had lost its sting. But in her heart of hearts, Elena still believed Bonnie wouldn't go this far. Bonnie was too _good _for the likes of them. Always had been. She wouldn't soil her hands with their blood.

So it was somewhat of a surprise when invisible hands tore Elena away from Damon and drove her into the wall so hard her teeth rattled and the paneling cracked beneath her. Sourceless wind arose, whipping the embers in the fireplace into frenzy, Bonnie's hair floating in a devilish halo. Flames flowed from the fireplace in a glowing river of light, moving purposefully toward Bonnie. Toward Damon.

Now Elena was afraid.

Elena threw herself forward, struggling to free herself from bonds she couldn't see. It was as if the air itself had solidified around her. She strained with all her might as that dancing line of flames grew ever closer to Damon. "You can't do this, Bonnie! This isn't you. You're better than this—think of what it'll do to _you. _Killing him, killing the man I love, it'll eat you alive."

Bonnie's face shone, beautiful and ominous. "Watching him destroy you is eating me alive. Watching what he did to you? That's what's killing me. This is for the best." She smiled, but it was a cold and twisted thing. "You'll forgive me. Isn't that what you always do? If you could forgive him, you can forgive me."

She was going to do it. This time, Bonnie was really going to do it. No last minute attack of conscience, no unexpected savior. If Elena didn't do something, she was going to kill Damon.

Rage like Elena had never known flooded every inch of her. Black spots danced before her eyes, her skin white-hot with fury. Bonnie was not Damon's judge. She was not the arbiter of good and evil, right and wrong. Damon had his share of sins, but they weren't Bonnie's to burn away.

The witch raised her hands over her head, the flames coalescing into a writhing mass. _There._ With so much of her attention focused on controlling the flames, the air that held Elena captive weakened just enough. With a final, desperate lunge, Elena broke free, an inhuman growl tearing through the crackling of the flames. The fireball began to descend toward Damon, threatening to take him away forever and leave Elena locked in an endless hell without him, alone with Bonnie and her misery. No.

Fuck the balance. Damon was _her _balance. After all the shit the universe had thrown at her, Damon was the one consolation prize that made dealing with all the other horror and heartbreak _almost _worthwhile.

He was hers. He would not be taken from her.

The fire froze in mid-air when Elena's teeth met with Bonnie's throat. It evaporated into nothingness when Elena tore the witch's windpipe open, breath fruitlessly whistling through the ruined passageway. This was her enemy, and it had to be stopped. The creature became her prey, her _conquest_, as its sweet life's blood pumped into her mouth. Her enemy's heart gave a few last, labored beats, the arterial blood headier than any wine. Elena suckled at the ruined throat, needing to drain the last dregs. No one would threaten what was hers. No one.

"Elena! Jesus Christ, Elena," a voice said. A familiar voice. The one who belonged to her, the one she belonged to. Damon.

It was only then that Elena raised her dripping mouth from the gaping wound. It was only then that Elena saw Bonnie's eyes, fixed and staring. It was only then that the screaming began.

She didn't expect it to ever stop.


	60. Fragmented

_Whew. Tough chapter, guys. Hope you enjoy it. The line Damon reads is the last stanza of Emily Dickinson's "Because I could not stop for Death." Please enjoy._

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><p>The floor was damp beneath her cheek. Cold metal encircled her wrists. She stirred and chains chimed. The movement hurt; her veins were full of frostbite. She didn't move again.<p>

Memories returned, fragmented and sharp like shards of glass. Bonnie laying in her arms, weightless and motionless. A gaping hole, the white bone of a spine gleaming through the crimson gore. The endless scream of horror that issued from her own throat. Clawed hands digging into her wrist, tearing the skin open and pressing it to those pale, bloodless lips. An endless moment of anticipation, the certainty Bonnie would cough and sputter, that the light would gleam in her eyes again.

No heartbeat. No heartbeat. No heartbeat.

Damon tried to take the body from her-no, not a body, _Bonnie_, it was still _Bonnie—_but she threw him back with an effortless shove. It couldn't end this way. Bonnie couldn't end this way. Her thoughts ran in frantic circles. Meaningless. They were all meaningless when put up against the dead girl in her arms. Eighteen years of friendship, of laughter and slumber parties and floating feathers and fighting side-by-side and birthdays and funerals couldn't end in a ball of fire, a rush of the sweetest blood.

Damon ripped the body from her arms. Elena screamed obscenities, tried to hold on, but there was a sickening snap and Bonnie was _gone _and she couldn't be _gone _and there had to still be a way, and if Damon took her, if he put her in the cold, hard ground, then that would make it all real and it couldn't be real.

Then there was a hole in her memory, a glittering blackness among the shards. She remembered pain, remembered her body thrashing on the ground, crashing into the bookcases in a shower of splinters and a hail of books. Damon, trying to hold her, trying to contain her, everything spinning out of control. He left and she was alone and Bonnie was _gone _and then more blackness. More pain.

Damon had returned with something in his hand, something he jammed into her neck and ice had spread beneath her skin and around her heart, froze her eyes shut and plunged her into nothingness. Now here she was, chained and bound like the animal she was. This was where she belonged. But even if she was imprisoned for a thousand years until her veins turned to dust and her body withered, Bonnie would still be gone. And she would still be a murderer.

"You're awake." Though her eyes were closed, she'd know that voice anywhere. She'd died for him. She'd killed for him. Even he would be disgusted with her now. After all, if there was one thing Damon believed in, it was loyalty. Elena was a traitor. How could she choose the life of an eighteen-year-old girl over the life of an ancient monster? Even if it was a monster she loved. A monster like the one who lived inside her, the one who had broken free and exulted as Bonnie's heart gave one last tormented, sideways beat before it stilled, the one who was filled with fierce and terrible joy as the death rattle moaned from Bonnie's lips.

She didn't speak. There was nothing to say.

"I know you feel a little weird," he said his voice soft, that tone people used with children and animals and the mentally ill. Elena wasn't even sure which of those categories she fell into anymore. Maybe all of then. "It's vervain. It'll pass." So that explained the burning ice crawling under her skin. Vervained and locked in a dungeon. Elena wanted to laugh. She was sure she'd never laugh again.

Elena opened her eyes. Damon sat beside the bars of the cell, legs stretched across the narrow space. He was near at hand, but gave her as much space as the cramped space would allow. He didn't offer words of comfort. He was just there, and that was better than all the smothering affection in the world.

"Bonnie is really gone this time." It wasn't a question. Elena knew the answer, but she had to hear him say it. Damon could work miracles; he'd brought Bonnie back from the "dead' once and maybe he'd been able to do it again. Maybe the blood had been enough, or maybe there was a spell, like the one that had saved Jeremy. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

"Yes." The confirmation didn't hurt as much as she'd expected it to. Perhaps she simply lacked the capacity to feel any more pain than she already did. One more loss. After all the bodies stacked up behind her, how could one more loss hurt so much? Because this time, the blood was on her hands. She'd thought—or the animal that lived in her skin had felt—she could survive as long as she had Damon. Now she wasn't so sure.

"Where is she?" Even speaking was an effort, the ice making her tongue thick and sluggish. Bonnie didn't belong at the bottom of the quarry or thrown into a ravine. She deserved to be alive and laughing and whole and happy. She never would be again.

"Next to her grams." Under the willow in Mystic Falls Cemetery. Near Elena's parents, just a stroll down a grassy hillock and past the little reflecting pool. Earth and wind and water. Bonnie would have approved. Bonnie was dead.

Damon reached for her, but she flinched away. "Don't touch me." He was alive, and she was glad. But she couldn't stand for him to touch her, for him to even look at her. Not because it was his fault. Far from it. Every bit of this comedy of horrors was entirely her fault. No, Elena didn't deserve kindness, didn't deserve compassion. She'd had none for Bonnie when her teeth sank into her soft, warm flesh. Damon's very presence made her happy, and that wasn't an emotion she was permitted to feel ever again.

Damon moved away from her. He sat next to the bars of the cell, hands folded in his lap. They were silent. Elena didn't know how long. She lapsed in and out of waking, more razor-sharp memories flitting before her eyes.

_The soil was cool and damp as the two girls poked holes in the dirt with chubby fingers. "I'm bored," Elena whined. "Can't we go to Caroline's and play Barbies?"_

_Bonnie placed a seed on the soil, and with the single-minded concentration of a child, drew soil over the buried treasure. "You go. I want to finish."_

_The girls knelt on the ground behind the Bennett house. Elena's jeans were muddy and her back hurt from hunching over the tiny plot they'd carved out of the sod. "Why does it matter? It's just a bunch of stupid flowers."_

_Bonnie heaved a long-suffering sigh. "They aren't flowers. Well, they aren't just flowers." She picked up one of the packets of seeds—plain white paper labeled "rue" in flowing cursive script. "I found them in my mom's stuff. Grams said they're magic." She pressed another seed into the earth._

"_Only babies believe in magic," Elena retorted with the worldly wisdom of a seven year old._

"_I guess I'm a baby."Her friend shrugged as she planted the last few seeds, staring at the mounds of soil as if green tendrils would emerge at any moment and burst into glorious blossom. "But I want to see them grow."_

Damon's voice, rhythmic and even, drew her from the garden and back into the dungeon. He didn't seem to have moved, yet a book was open in his hands. "'Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each feels shorter than the day I first surmised the horses' heads were toward eternity.'" Blue eyes flicked to her. "Hi."

"You're all right?" Flashes of his face shining with sweat and streaked with blood, flickering flames reflecting from his milk-white skin.

"I'm fine. Because of you." He stared at the book for a moment before his gaze met hers again. "Thank you."

"Don't you dare thank me for that. Don't you _dare_," she hissed.

Damon shrugged. "I'm glad we're the ones still standing. It was only a matter of time. I tried to tell you that." His voice gentled. "The world dealt you both shitty hands. You bent. She broke."

"You don't care. You don't care that she's dead," Elena said. Of course he didn't. Damon had never liked Bonnie, had hated her from the first, just as Bonnie had hated him. Maybe he was even glad, even glad she'd spared him the trouble of murdering the meddlesome witch the moment her usefulness ran out.

Silence. "Do you want me to lie to you? Is that what you want? Will it make you feel better if I tell you I'll miss her?"

Elena didn't answer. She lay her head back down and let the ice grow around her until the numb, clean cold overpowered her.

_It was the night of their first high school dance. The theme? The 1940s. Elena was going as Rosie the Riveter, tough and strong with a kerchief tied 'round her head, while Bonnie had chosen to go as a pinup girl, her hair falling in gentle waves, her skirt scandalously short. They were going to be the hottest things Mystic Fall High had ever seen. This was the night they'd been waiting for, the night they became teenagers, the night they grew up. But Bonnie's eyes were sad and thoughtful as she applied bright red lipstick._

"_What's wrong, Bon?" Elena asked, rolling her shirt sleeves up over her elbow. "Aren't you excited? Tonight's gonna be awesome."_

"_Maybe for you," Bonnie said, puckering her lips and adding another dab of crimson. "You've got a date. So does Caroline."_

_It was true. Elena and Matt had gotten more serious since they'd started high school—after all, what could be more perfect than the JV quarterback and the cheerleader?-and Caroline had been fooling around with some junior. But Bonnie was quiet, a little shy. She hadn't found anyone she clicked with yet. _

"_So? Just because we're going with guys doesn't mean we're going to ignore you." Elena flopped onto her vanity chair beside Bonnie, nearly sending her friend tumbling to the floor. "You're my best friend, Bonnie. That's way more important than any guy."_

_Bonnie smiled in the mirror. "You promise? You promise you won't ditch me?"_

_Elena held her pinky out. Bonnie linked it with her own. "Promise." _

The smell of blood brought her back. Damon was kneeling beside her, a tumbler of the thick liquid in his hand. "You've got to eat something, Elena."

Her body wanted, needed, craved that blood. It would make her strong again, make her ready to fight and defend what was hers. Her mind knew she could never accept what he offered ever again. Every sip of blood brought the animal closer to the surface, increased the chance she could hurt someone else she loved. She turned away.

There was a growl and then she was in Damon's lap. One of his arms was clamped around her chest, preventing her from squirming free, while the other pressed the glass insistently to her lips. "Starving yourself isn't going to bring her back. Drink, dammit."

Elena tried to turn her face away, but she was too weak. Her body won over her mind again, and she let Damon tip the stuff down her throat.

The blood was nothing compared to Bonnie's, nothing compared to the fear Elena had tasted in Bonnie's last moments, the sweetness of Bonnie's magic pouring out of her veins.

Elena turned her head to the side and vomited red bile.

_Elena's empty pillow was thrown to one side, its feathery contents in a heap on the bed. Bonnie was smiling and babbling something about a secret. Elena had no idea what was going on, but was willing to go along for the ride, despite the damage to her favorite pillow. "Grams just showed me this," Bonnie said. "You're gonna love it."_

_Bonnie lifted her hand, and a single feather rose after it, floating gently. Impossible. This was impossible. But it hovered there, weightless and defying everything Elena was supposed to believe. Elena tore her eyes from the feather to her friend's face. Bonnie's brow was furrowed in concentration, but beneath it all was joy and delight. This was magic. There was no other word for it._

"_Bonnie, what's going on?" Elena asked, needing to make sense of it all. But Bonnie just smiled and spread her hands wide like a conductor before an orchestra. A handful of feathers drifted into the air before dozens more followed, swirling like snow. Elena couldn't help but laugh, hands covering her mouth. It was impossible. It was beautiful._

"_It's true, Elena. It's all true, everything my grams told me. It's impossible, and it's true." The feathers danced around them in a gentle cloud. They laughed._

A dam deep inside Elena broke open. Sobs racked her body. Tears coursed down her cheeks. Damon tried to hold her, tried to comfort her, but she pushed him away. She cried, a wordless and endless sorrow defined by absence and guilt and loss. The tears never seemed to end.

There was movement. Damon left and returned. It didn't matter. Elena still wept. Damon's hands clutched her face. "Look at me, Elena. I need you to look at me."

She squinted at him through eyes nearly swollen shut with tears. "Good girl. That's a good girl. You asked me about the switch. You can feel it, can't you? You can feel how you can just take all the pain you're feeling and shut it away. Can you find it?"

Too dazed to fight, she nodded. She felt it. It was less a switch and more a trap door, somewhere deep inside her icy heart, a bottomless well where she could sink every last painful feeling that threatened to tear her apart.

"You need to turn it off. Just for a little while. Just until you can cope." He was afraid. Afraid she'd tear herself apart with grief, afraid that she'd break as Bonnie had, shatter into a million pieces that could never be put back together again and he'd be left alone. He was afraid.

"I can't," she stuttered. It was the easy way out. It was cheating. She deserved this guilt, deserved this heartache and grief. She deserved to feel this misery and loss forever. "I won't feel anything. I won't feel-"

"I know. But it's just for a little while." His hands were gentle and strong, but his voice had an undercurrent of panic mixed with the deepest sadness imaginable. " It'll all be there waiting for you when you're ready for it. I promise," he said. "Please. For me, Elena. Turn it off for me."

Elena couldn't fight anymore. The tears in her eyes dried instantly. There was no longer ice in her heart; there was no longer anything at all. Oh, there was something lurking there, but it was muted and distant. She ignored it. She was clean. Pure. Empty.

A smile curled across her lips. "Unchain me," she said.


	61. Armored

Everything was calm. Flat. Even. She remembered everything, was aware of the consequences of her actions, even knew that what she'd done was wrong according to every belief she'd ever held. It simply didn't matter. It was as if her life until this very moment had been a movie, some dull B-horror flick on late night television, worthy of little attention or reaction.

God, it was _good. _She was fearless. Strong. Untouchable. For the first time in years, she was safe. She'd had her fair share of physical wounds since being plunged into the supernatural underbelly of Mystic Falls, but the blows which had left the most damage the most were the ones that struck her soul. It was as if she'd grown a thick, chitinous suit of armor inside and out, separating her from the wounds of the past as surely as it protected her from new injuries.

Damon unlocked the manacles and she rose. There were tears on her cheeks. She scoured them away with the back of one hand. The door to the cell creaked open and Damon led the way out, back as straight as a ramrod. He didn't turn to look at her, didn't ask if she was all right, just stared straight ahead.

Good. They'd wasted too much time already. "How long has it been since Bonnie died?" Elena asked, stretching the kinks from her stiff limbs.

"Three days. Probably went a little overboard on the vervain, but I'm more used to dealing with Originals than baby vampires," he said with a shrug, obviously going for breezy and casual. But his words were clipped, the ends of the words bitten off in harsh consonants.

"Have you told the others about Bonnie?" Now that she could function again, wasn't a prostrate and pathetic ball of grief, she had to go back to looking at the big picture. They had to find the stake. They had to kill Klaus. They had to stay alive. Those were the only things that really mattered. And to accomplish all that, they were all going to have to work together.

"Stefan knows. I don't think he's told the others, but I'm not sure. I've been with you most of the time, except for..." he paused, glancing back at her uncertainly.

"You were with me except for when you buried Bonnie," Elena finished. Next to her grams, he'd said. "Thank you, for that. That's where she would have wanted to be."

A nod, the movement stiff and uncomfortable. A mirthless jester's smile."Happy to be of service." He stopped in front of the chest freezer, pulling out a pair of blood bags. "I do know there's no progress on the great stake clusterfuck. Ric's alter ego hasn't been cooperating, believe it or not." He lobbed a blood bag her way. "Always good to know that instant death is still on the table."

Elena caught the bag. Damon started up the stairs and she followed, eyes still fixed on the blood. Three days. She'd scarcely eaten in three days (_Except for Bonnie's blood, rich and warm and dripping with magic, _a voice whispered from the bottom of the well. She cut the thought off sharply). She struggled with the unfamiliar tubing at the top of the bag. "This is worse than a Capri Sun," she muttered as they walked into the living room.

Damon swapped his already-open bag for her stubbornly sealed one, smirking. "You'll get the hang of it."

Elena gulped down the blood, snakes writhing beneath the skin of her face. She embraced the sensation, craving it like a blind man craved sight. In the absence of emotion, physical feeling would do. It was easy. It was comfortable. It didn't require her tears or her guilt or her repentance. She let her eyes drift closed, losing herself in the pleasure of the blood, the way it heated her body, made her limbs hum with power and drove the last vervain clouds from her head. All too soon, the bag was empty.

The warmth of the blood began to fade, veins withdrawing from her cheeks. She sighed and opened her eyes. Damon's eyes were heavy upon her, his bag untouched. Elena had seen that look on his face only once before: the night they'd opened the tomb and Katherine was nowhere to be found. He looked as if all the light in the world had suddenly been extinguished, empty and aching.

That look meant nothing to her.

She could distinctly remember every instant they'd spent together, could enumerate the reasons she loved him in great detail. But no matter how hard she tried (though she didn't try very hard) she couldn't remember what it felt like to love him.

Elena canted her head to one side. "You knew what would happen if I turned it off. You knew everything would disappear—the good and the bad. You knew I wouldn't be able to love you." Damon inclined his head. "But you told me to turn it off anyway. Why?"

"I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't let it happen again." His voice was full of gravel; his eyes were full of stars. "I couldn't watch someone else I love fall apart."

"But it hurts you. I can see that, it just...doesn't matter." She shrugged. He flinched. "Why don't you turn it off, too?"

"Don't fucking tempt me, Elena." He raked his hands through his hair, storming a few steps away. His shoulders heaved as he swallowed useless gulps of air. After a moment, he turned and stalked back toward her, that mask of callous indifference he wore so well back in place, though his eyes still shone too brightly. "Someone has to be here to make sure you come back. That's why I can't turn it off." He extended his hand to her, as if to stroke her cheek, but then stopped, arm swinging back to his side. "I've been where you are. I know you can still remember what it means to love, even if you can't quite pull it off. I know you'll come back to me when you can."

Perhaps. But this weightless, emotionless state was so easy. Nothing hurt. Nothing could penetrate that armor; nothing could hurt her. Wasn't that what she'd prayed for all these years as she'd lost one loved one after another, just for the pain to stop? And it finally had. Maybe it was worth losing love. "And if I don't?" she asked.

Damon smiled, tight and forced. "I can be very persuasive. Now go get cleaned up; powow at Ric's in an hour."

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><p>Ric greeted them at the door of the loft. He'd aged years in a matter of days, his face thin and pale, dark shadows carved under his eyes. "It's good to see you," Ric said. His frown deepened as he looked at Elena. "You look...different. Everything okay? You're okay?" He gestured vaguely to his forehead, just where the door had struck her on that night a lifetime ago.<p>

"I'm fine," she said, forcing a smile, trying to remember the way she was supposed to look, the way she was supposed to react. "It was just a bump on the head, Ric. Nothing serious," she reassured him.

"You've got bigger things to worry about than us. How's Mr. Hyde?" Damon asked.

"Didn't say I was worried about you, dick," Ric said, a ghost of his old self rising up before vanishing. "Come on in, everyone's waiting."

There were so few of them now, with Jeremy and Tyler and Bonnie gone. Just a handful of fighters left: Damon, cool and smirky. Stefan, the furrowed brow back in full force. Ric, sinking onto the sofa and picking up his drink. Caroline, all nervous smiles, waiting for the other shoe to drop. And Matt, wary energy bundled under a placid exterior. They were all waiting for her to speak.

Elena had spent the last hour trying to determine the best way to tell them. After all, she still had to work with all of them, and one day if she turned the switch back on, she'd have to work on rebuilding the relationships she'd broken. If it was even possible for them to forgive her. Maybe they wouldn't. A little spring of something very like fear bubbled up from the depths of the well inside her, but she squashed it mercilessly. There were too many bridges to cross before she could worry about that; they might all wind up dead anyway. She'd apologize to the survivors.

"Has anyone seen Bonnie? She hasn't responded to my texts in a while," Matt said, his anxious voice slicing through the silence. "That's not like her."

"Same here," Caroline said. "I think maybe she's just dealing with stuff. You know, Abby and Klaus and everything. Probably needed to clear her head." Caroline nodded, as if her certainty could make the words true. "I've been trying to give her some room, but this is getting crazy. I'll stop by her house when we're done here."

At least Elena could save her the trip. She'd determined that quick like a Band-Aid was the best way to do this. Start at the beginning, rip the bandage off, let the pain come, and then they could all move on. Everyone was looking at her. It was time.

"There's no good way of saying this." She took a deep breath. "I'm a-"

"You're a vampire," Caroline said. Matt sat up straight, his eyes wide. Ric buried his face in his hands. Damon and Elena exchanged looks as Caroline barreled on. "Your heart's not beating, you stink of blood, and I think we all knew how this story was going to end. It was just a matter of when." Her voice was firm, collected. "It's not what I would have chosen, but it's your life. Death. Whatever. Congratulations, I guess." She sat back with a little huff, arms folded across her chest.

"Elena?" Matt asked uncertainly. "Is it true?"

"Yes. It was my choice; Damon didn't know anything about it until it was too late." He didn't deserve blame for what had happened that night. Let them hate her. She could handle it now. "I wanted to tie myself to the bloodline. If we go down, I wanted to go down together. I'm not sorry I did it," she said, looking from face to face, daring them to speak. But no one did. Matt stared at his shoes, his hands clenched into fists at his side. Caroline met her gaze, lips pursed. Ric never looked up at all.

Damon cleared his throat. "Bonnie found out by accident, and to say she didn't take it well would be an understatement. She broke out the witchcraft bullshit and tried to kill us both. But I got to her first.".

Why was he protecting her? This was her crime, her guilt. It wasn't his to claim. She opened her mouth to argue, to disagree, but the silent plea on his face stopped her cold. He needed to bear this weight for her. For now, she would let him. But she'd find out why.

"Damon-" Stefan started, licking his lips as his eyes darting between Elena and his brother.

"No, Stefan. It's true and you know it. I killed her. Bonnie's dead," Damon said flatly.

The silence in the room was palpable, a living, breathing thing. Caroline was again the one to break it. "Bonnie wouldn't do that." Her voice cracked. "She wouldn't hurt Elena."

"True. Most of it was directed at me. Self defense, Blondie. No court would convict me for saving my own skin." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Now let's talk about the stake."

"Bonnie's dead and you want to talk about the stake?" Matt asked incredulously, his face florid. "I'm about ready to _help _Alaric find it, the way you're acting. What did you do with her? Dump her in some ditch like you did with Vicki, just throw her away like trash?" He stood in all his quarterback glory, as if he were actually going to rush Damon. In an instant, Elena was in front of him, blocking his path. She wasn't quite sure how it had happened, how she'd engaged her vampire speed, but that was a question for another time. Matt stumbled back a step.

"She's with her grams. Under the willow tree," she said softly. "He did the best he could for her. Better than I could have done." Deliberately, Elena inserted a quaver into her voice, let her lower lip tremble. "There was no other choice, Matt. You have to believe that."

Matt's pale blue eyes quivered. "And you're going to forgive him? You're just going to let him get away with killing someone else you love? Or now that you're one of them, do you think it's okay to murder people? She was your _best friend_, Elena. We should call Sheriff Forbes-"

"And she'd do what, exactly?" Ric asked, drawing his hands down his face. His eyes were empty, his voice distant. "Lock him up? Take him in front of a court and explain what he did? We're past the point where police have anything to do with Damon. Just like we're past that point with me."

"Ric's right," Stefan said, though his eyes remained fixed on his brother. "And so's Damon. If he and Elena say it's self defense, I believe them. It was no secret Bonnie hated vampires and hated Damon most of all. Elena turning was the straw that broke the camel's back." His gaze turned to Elena. "She was a good person. I'm sorry she died like that."

Was he challenging her? Accusing her? Elena didn't understand what Stefan was trying to say. It _had _been in defense; it just hadn't been Damon doing the defending. But she didn't need his approval. She knew what had happened. So did Bonnie, for that matter.

Caroline was crying, ugly, full-bodied sobbing. "Who's going to tell her dad?" she managed. "Who's going to tell Abby?"

"We tell her dad she went to live with Abby . Let's hope he's not on vervain. If Abby ever shows up again, we tell her to fuck off. Problem solved," Damon said. "

Elena watched the train wreck around her, fascinated. It was strangely beautiful to watch as they fell apart one by one—Caroline's tears, Ric's haunted gaze, Matt's defiant anger. It was as if they were speaking a foreign language; Elena could understand the words, but failed to grasp the overall meaning of what she saw and heard. Or maybe there wasn't any meaning at all, just nasty, brutish pain.

"I'm not just going to forget about her. You can go to hell," Matt said. The door slammed behind him.

Caroline sobbed. Ric rose and fixed himself a drink. Elena wondered how many he'd had already today, wondered if he'd fix one for her. "I'm sorry," Elena said. No one answered.

Stefan jerked his head toward the door. Elena and Damon followed him into the hall. "Look, they need time-"

"We're already on borrowed time." Damon interrupted. "It's a fucking miracle Klaus isn't playing your ribcage like a xylophone right now."

"I know that," Stefan said. "But you just dropped two huge bombshells on them. You can't expect them to just jump up and follow your orders right away. And as long as we keep Ric under lock and key he can't kill any Originals, and we're the only other people who know what the stake can do. We're fine in the short term. I'll figure something out with Klaus. Search the boarding house again, Elena's house. Maybe there's something we've missed."

"Stefan's right," Elena said. Both men blinked at her in surprise. "They're hurting. I remember how it hurts." She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to chafe some warmth into her arms. It didn't help. "Tomorrow will be better. And the day after that, a little better still. Let's just go. We can't help them right now."

Stefan looked at Elena curiously. "Damon, give us a minute."

"No."

"Not your call. Go, Damon. I'll be out in a minute," Elena said. She wanted to hear what Stefan had to say, what he'd meant when his eyes lingered on her as he spoke of how _good _Bonnie was.

Damon opened his mouth to argue, but shut it abruptly. "Fine." He turned to go, but paused, looking back at Stefan. "You'll make sure Ric doesn't do anything stupid? Blondie, too?"

"Isn't that supposed to be her line?" Stefan asked, nodding at Elena. Damon snorted and left.

"Go ahead and say it," Elena ordered.

"I'm not judging you. Anyone would have turned it off in that situation. I know you didn't-" Stefan looked at the door. "I know you didn't want her to die."

"Was that it? Was that what you wanted to say?" she asked.

"No." He dropped his voice to the barest whisper, a murmur Elena had to strain to hear. "It won't go away. It'll be waiting there for you. And you'll let it back in one day. When you do? Don't let the guilt define you. You're more than this." He squeezed her shoulder and disappeared into Ric's apartment.

Elena walked into the sunshine, squinting in the light. As she walked across the parking lot toward the car, her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen without much interest. A text from Jeremy.

"Elena, where are you? I've been calling you for days. I know I'm a little hard to get a hold of—been spending a lot of time with my dog and my buddy Kol—but I miss you. Call me."

In another one of those mindless flashes, she found herself in the passenger's seat next to Damon. "How fast can this thing go?" Elena asked.

"These days? About 110 miles per hour. Why?" Damon asked as he began to back out of the parking space.

"Good. We're in a hurry. We're going to Denver."


	62. Switched

_Over 900 reviews. I don't even have words for what each and every one of them mean to me. Thank you. When I beat myself up over a chapter that didn't come out quite right, when I don't want to write at all, when I'm just having a bad day, they mean the world to me. To everyone who's ever taken a moment to drop a review, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. On a less sappy note, hiatus! Ends! Tomorrow! 'bout time, huh? How about a little celebratory road trip?_

* * *

><p>Two miles down, sixteen hundred to go.<p>

The top on the Camaro was down, the wind raking their hair with cold claws. Music blared, something with squealing guitars, so loud it thrummed in Elena's chest and made her ears ache. A cooler stuffed full of blood sat in the backseat next to Damon's leather overnight bag, loaded with his black t-shirts and whatever clothing Elena had managed to scrounge from the boarding house. She couldn't go home, after all; there was no one to invite her in.

"Sorry Jer, things have been crazy. Tell me about your new friend." Elena looked at the text, finger hovering over the "send" key. Not quite right. "And I want a picture of the puppy, lol." There. Better. Send. She probably should have called him, but it was too risky. He knew her better than anyone; he'd hear the false notes in her laughter, the hollowness in her words. Elena didn't mind telling Jeremy—telling him the _truth—_but it had to be at the right time. He might do something rash if he found out now, might run or resist their efforts to extricate him from Kol. Worse yet, he might _tell _Kol his sister was coming, and that wouldn't do at all.

Damon's eyes were fixed on the endless ribbon of highway, one hand resting on the wheel, the other dangling over the car door. "Why are we doing this, Elena?" he asked, the quiet words almost lost in the wind and the music.

"We went over this," Elena said, brow furrowing with puzzlement. She spoke slowly, enunciating each word, just in case Damon hadn't understood the first time. "We're saving Jeremy. If Kol's there, he's in danger," Elena said.

"That's not what I meant." Damon punched the radio off. Elena missed the steady throb of the bass. "You could be halfway to Tijuana right now, leaving all this Klaus bullshit behind. But instead we're driving halfway across the country to save Jeremy from his own characteristically idiotic choice in friends. Why?"

Elena shrugged. "Why did you save Stefan from the tomb vampires? You were switched off then."

"I was only sort of switched off," Damon said, still staring straight ahead. "After we opened the tomb, it started coming back. Didn't happen all at once. I guess I realized I had to have something to live for besides her, and you and Stefan just...snuck in, despite my best efforts." The engine roared as he sank the pedal to the floor, whizzing past some kid on a crotch rocket.

So that was when it had happened. Elena had always wondered the exact moment he'd come back, when he'd turned it back on and turned into the man she'd loved. But if feeling had crept back in that long ago, that meant... "So when you killed my brother, when you fed me blood—you had emotions when all of that happened," Elena asked with clinical interest.

"Emotions on or off, I'm still a dick," Damon pointed out. True. "And I never would have done those things if I'd been switched off—hell, they were the only reason I did them. I was furious at Katherine so I hurt Jeremy, and I was terrified to lose you so I fed you my blood. But we're not talking about me right now."

It made sense. Damon's love had always caused far more damage than his dispassion ever could. For her, it was a simpler story. "I'm keeping my options open." That startled him enough for him to tear his eyes off the road, to finally look at her, eyebrows raised. "If I turn my back on the people I loved, I can't ever come back. The idea of turning it back on is already...distasteful. If I knew I would have to deal not only with the guilt, but also the loss of all my friends and family? It would be impossible to come back." She watched the trees flicker past outside the window. "I haven't decided what I'm doing yet. But I'm not ready to close the door. And if I do turn it back on, I know I'll need Jer in my life. Just like I'll need you." His face softened. "Tijuana will still be there if I decide the other way."

Damon turned back to the road. Elena turned the music back on and let the drums pound against her.

* * *

><p>The rolling hills of Virginia rose into the older, wilder crags of West Virginia before smoothing into the gentle green swells of Kentucky. Elena's phone buzzed steadily with texts from Jeremy. The dog was suitably floppy eared and adorable, and Kol was apparently an exchange student from England Jeremy had met at an art class. Right.<p>

"Apparently Jeremy missed the day we talked about stranger danger in school," Elena said. "But he's okay."

"He can always cut Kol's head off if he gets into trouble; it worked last time. Always wondered what happens if you do it to an Original, though," Damon said thoughtfully.

Elena leaned into the backseat to grab a pouch of B-negative. "Want one?"

"Going through those a little fast, aren't you?" Damon asked, glancing at the crumpled pile of empty bags at her feet.

She shrugged. How was she supposed to know what normal was for a vampire? She was hungry, so she drank. When the warmth fled and the hunger returned, she did it again. She'd even managed to figure out how to draw the little tube from the stopper without spattering herself with blood—progress. So what if the cold began to steal back into her bones a bit more quickly after every bag, if the rush of pleasure and the blissful blankness was just a bit less? There was always more. "You might be right. Maybe we should save our supply. Seen any hitchhikers?"

Damon held his hand out. "Give me one. And tell me you packed some bourbon."

* * *

><p>Night fell. They stopped for gas just after crossing the river into Indiana. The inky skies began to spit rain and Damon closed the roof of the convertible. When they returned to the road, the car felt too close, too confining. Elena rolled the window down, letting her fingers dabble in the damp night air. Even with the constant squawk of the music, it was still too quiet.<p>

The miles blurred together. Signs whipped past: "Welcome to Illinois, the Land of Lincoln!" "Now entering the 'Show-Me State.'" "Welcome to Kansas." Damon responded if she spoke to him, but mostly kept to himself, his fingers tapping staccato rhythms on the wheel, gaze fixed on the taillights ahead of him.

Elena had been puzzling over his behavior. Since she'd hidden her emotions away, he'd seemed loath to even look at her; he certainly hadn't touched her, not even an accidental brush of hands. Yet he'd lied for her, protected her from the reactions of her friends. Why? She'd been prepared to take it on—there was no reason not to own her actions. Besides, the truth would come out sooner or later. If Stefan didn't spill the beans, Elena knew she'd go blubbering to Caroline the moment her switch was back on, begging for forgiveness. He'd only bought her a temporary reprieve, and when she needed it the least.

"Why did you tell them you killed Bonnie?" Elena asked. "You didn't have to do that."

He fiddled with the windshield wipers, searched the dial for another radio station. Elena waited. There was no rush; Denver was still seven hundred miles away.

"They'd never look at you the same way if they knew. They might forgive you—Ric and Caroline, at least; dunno about the boy scout. But every time they looked at you, they'd see her blood on your hands, on your face, imagining what it looked like when she died." The windshield wipers whispered. A car honked in the distance. "Like you said, you'll need them when you come back. It's just easier this way. For everyone."

"Easier for you, too?" Elena asked.

He smiled thinly. "Just playing to form, Elena. Just being who they expect me to be—and letting you be who they expect _you _to be."

They expected her to be kind and forgiving and self-sacrificing; they expected him to be cruel and cold and self-preserving. Turns out they didn't know either of them very well at all.

Damon squinted into the darkness, and Elena followed his gaze. In the distance, there was a sea of red taillights. Traffic was stopped. Elena turned the radio dial until she found a traffic report. A five-car pileup had traffic backed up for miles. "I'll find a detour," Elena said, reaching for her cell phone to amend their route.

Damon rubbed his eyes. "Elena, it's already after midnight. We're three hours out of Denver—if we show up at this hour of the night, we'll just freak everybody out. And I'm fucking tired. Let's just get a motel, wait for this bullshit traffic to clear itself up, and get to Jeremy in the morning."

Well, Elena had ferreted out that Kol hadn't been invited in; Jeremy didn't like having guests to the Johnson's home, apparently. And he'd texted her goodnight hours ago, so he was safe in his bed for now. "Fine. We shouldn't face Kol when we're at less than full strength, anyway," she reasoned.

Damon turned sharply for the exit. "Goodland, Kansas," the sign read.

* * *

><p>The motel was one of the anonymous, boxy chains that served the boxy, anonymous people traveling on I-70. The room was filled with the usual dusty bedspreads and inoffensive floral artwork. Elena was instantly bored, wishing they'd found another way to keep going tonight. Anything had to be better than sitting in this tiny, beige room.<p>

Damon approached one of the beds, seizing the corner of the comforter between his thumb and forefinger and ripping it off in a single motion. "Disgusting. They hardly ever wash these things," he muttered, mostly to himself.

Elena pulled the heavy drapes back from the window. People wandered to and from their cars, unloading luggage, unfolding maps. It wouldn't be hard to steal just one away from the crowd, pull him into the darkness. She looked over her shoulder at Damon. "Hungry?" she asked.

"No, and you can't possibly be either. You're going to explode if you keep up that pace. Just lay down and go to sleep," Damon said as he collapsed onto one of the two queen beds.

He was right; she wasn't hungry. But that emptiness which had once been so welcome had begun to chafe, begun to feel as if she were suffocating in her own skin. The hunt, the flash of fangs, the instant of penetration, the rush of blood...it would be _something_. And she needed something to fill the hollow places inside her.

Elena crossed the room to him. "Okay. If you don't want to hunt, we could find another way to keep ourselves busy." She climbed onto the bed, one knee on either side of his body. Grazing her nails across his chest, she lowered herself to kiss him. He turned his face away.

"I'm tired," he said. His voice was soft, but his tone brooked no argument.

"Oh really?" Elena moved her hand lower. "You don't _seem _tired-" he seized her hand, forcing it away from him. She blinked down at him, uncomprehending. "What are you doing?"

"I said go to sleep, Elena," he gritted. "We aren't doing this."

Damon had never refused her sex. Ever. On the contrary, she'd sometimes had to push him off after extended lovemaking sessions left her exhausted and sore. Now when she was his equal, when she could match him passion for passion and _needed _his body so desperately, he would turn her away? "You don't want me?" she asked. "I thought you loved me."

"Don't manipulate me." He sat up abruptly and she tumbled to the side, sprawling on the bed beside him.

"I just need something to help me sleep, Damon. God, I didn't know that was a crime," she said as she climbed to her feet, hands clenching into fists. How fucking dare he act so high and mighty? As if he hadn't tried to get into her pants a hundred times just so he could feel _something_, even if it was just pure animal lust?

"Sleeping with you like this would be like fucking a stranger. You look like Elena, you sound like her, and sometimes if I close my eyes, I can pretend it's still you. But everything that made Elena who she truly is, everything I loved? That's gone. Until it's back, you'll have to find another goddamn way to sleep." His voice shook, bright blue eyes blazing with loss and longing and for an instant, Elena felt something within her respond in kind, a tender urge to pull him to her breast and stroke his hair and tell them it was still _her_, that she still loved him and everything would be all right-

Elena shoved the fleeting thoughts away, forcing the traitorous feelings back into the well deep inside her. When love came back, so would loss. So would sorrow and grief and self-loathing and every other thing she couldn't feel, never wanted to feel again. It wasn't worth it.

"You begged me to do this. This was what you _wanted_," she hissed. He had to be punished, had to pay for bringing those fucking _feelings _up from the deep. "I am what you made me."

He stood before her in a flash, and the way those eyes burned, the way he stared at her, she was certain he was going to strike her, and madly, she _wanted _him to, wanted the impact and the sting and the tang of her own blood. But he didn't. He raised his hand, fingers brushing her cheek in that achingly familiar gesture. "You're going to be so sorry for those words when you come back to me, Elena." His lips pressed against her forehead. "Goodnight."

The light flicked off and Damon crawled under the sheets. Elena lay in the other bed and stared at the ceiling until dawn.


	63. Escaped

"Welcome to the Denver Blood Center! Are you here to make a donation?" the smiling grandmother behind the counter asked.

"Why, yes. Yes we are. But not blood." Damon reached into his breast pocket and produced his checkbook. "Because of my...condition, I've benefited from the blood bank for _years. _Thought it was about time to start giving back." In his old-fashioned copperplate handwriting, Damon wrote an amount with several zeroes. The woman's eyes widened. Damon started to slide the check across the counter, but stopped abruptly, giving the woman a disarming smile. "Do you think we could see the back? It'd just mean so much to me."

Elena felt the force of his compulsion, sensed the gentle, focused _push _of suggestion. The woman's gaze turned vague, but snapped back to reality. She smiled. "Oh, I think we can arrange that. Follow me. Your friend, too." Fascinating. As they walked into the secure area of the blood bank, she spared a fleeting thought for Brandon, wondered if he'd become any less pathetic after her first fumbling attempt at compulsion. Probably not.

It had been Damon's idea to come to the blood bank before they picked up Jeremy. They were down to their last few bags of blood, and since they needed to make a quick exit from Denver and burn rubber back to Mystic Falls, a quick pit stop now would save time later. They both would have been happy to get blood directly from the source, but even once Jeremy knew the truth, he probably wouldn't be ready to see his sister snacking on a gas station attendant.

Ever since Damon had rebuffed her advances the night before, the pair had been all business. They spoke of plans, they spoke of strategies and tactics. They spoke of how to handle Kol ("No vampire stuff—we don't want him blabbing to Klaus," Damon had reminded her), how they'd handle Jeremy ("Don't get into a pissing match with Kol over him. We can't kill Kol, so don't try. This is about getting Jeremy and getting gone," Elena warned). They'd spoken not a word about themselves or where this mess left them. If there even was a "them" now.

He treated her as if she had died. It wasn't her fault he couldn't accept that this aspect of her was just as real as the soft, weeping Elena Gilbert. Everything she was now had always been within her, just hidden under layers of weakness. Even if she came back from this, turned it back on and returned to the tears and the pain (_and the laughter and the love_), this was still a part of her he had to accept. By choosing him, she'd chosen to embrace the darkest parts of her. If they were ever going to return to being a "them" again, he'd have to accept those shadowy places. But that was his problem. For now, she was concerned about securing their blood supply, securing Jeremy, and getting back to Mystic Falls before someone found the stake and they all wound up dead.

It was early, and the storage area was nearly empty. The woman was babbling about plasma this, hemoglobin that, but Damon sent her away with another nudge of compulsion. Elena held her massive purse open while Damon loaded it with armfuls of blood.

"After you die, your body stops producing new blood. By feeding, you're replenishing the blood in your veins. Otherwise, you run dry. Desiccation. You've seen that—not pretty." Damon ducked into the freezer to grab some O-negative from the back. "Little thing like you, you probably have about eight and a half, nine pints of blood. To stay at full strength, you need to drink four or five pints a day. You can get away with less, but there are consequences."

Elena considered. From a human perspective, it was a lot of blood; Elena vaguely remembered from an old episode of _CSI _that humans died after losing just forty percent of their blood. But for a vampire, it seemed like such a small indulgence, so few moments of pleasure and completeness. Why stop when it felt so good? "Does it hurt if you drink more? It's not like vampires get fat or anything."

Damon tucked a few extra bags into his jacket pockets and closed the freezer. "There's no physical drawback, no. But it's a pain in the ass. You either have to find and compel multiple people, which can take a lot of time, or hide bodies and keep on the move. Or you can knock off blood banks, but you can only do that so often."

The grandmother behind the counter waved cheerfully as they stepped into the chill Colorado morning. "So you've decided it's time to give me Vampire 101? Will there be a test later?" Elena asked.

"Maybe if I'd covered more of the basics, you wouldn't have wound up with chunks of Bonnie caught between your teeth," Damon said. "And maybe you wouldn't have blown through fifteen blood bags in a day."

"Ouch." The barb bounced off her armor, meaningless. They climbed into the car. "Bonnie's death wasn't a result of anything you did or didn't do. I killed her." All the vampire lessons in the world couldn't have tamped down that feral fury, that rage and protectiveness that had overwhelmed her. It had been an unstoppable force that knew no reason or logic. Oh, perhaps she could have knocked Bonnie out, held her down, incapacitated her in some way. There were other options, but a showdown with Bonnie would have been inevitable. Bonnie's abrupt death had likely saved both sides the casualties of a protracted war.

Elena idly wondered what she would have done that night had she still been human. Would she have gone so far to protect him even then? It was so hard to remember what being human had felt like, though it had been only a handful of days since her transformation. To be so weak and base and temporal was like a dream; this was the reality and always would be. It was pointless speculation, and she brushed the thoughts aside.

Damon hesitated for an instant before responding. "I leave the blame and guilt to you and Stefan," Damon said lightly. Elena didn't believe him. He felt it every bit as much as they did (as she _had)_, but rather than turning his guilt into a gnawing cancer like Stefan did, Damon instead lashed out, painted his pain on the world in blood red letters. Even the night before, hadn't he taken out his pain out on her by pushing her away rather than taking some cold comfort in her body? Not that she cared, save for the dull ache it had left between her legs and the gnawing emptiness. But Damon's coping mechanisms were beside the point-he had no reason to feel guilt for this. Killing Bonnie had been exactly what she wanted to do at that moment. "I'm more results-oriented—just trying to make sure it doesn't happen again."

"It'll happen again," Elena said as she began to transfer the blood from her purse to the cooler. "You can't protect me from everything. Even if I don't try to, chances are good I'll slip up during feeding. Or kill someone intentionally. Even Matt has blood on his hands now. None of us are going to get out of this clean."

"That ship sailed a long time ago," Damon agreed. "We're all going to get good and dirty before it's finished. But there's no need to add another weight to your load because of sloppiness or carelessness."

But right now, there was no weight. There was no load. It was only if she gave in and unleashed all those emotions again that the burden of her conscience mattered in the least. Could she bear the load? Elena didn't have an answer, but she didn't need one yet. There was still so much that needed to be done yet, and emotions would only be a liability.

* * *

><p>Elena was surprised when the Johnsons told her Jeremy would be at the batting cage this morning. While Jeremy had played Little League, he'd always been the kid in the outfield more interested in picking dandelions than catching pop flies. Damon denied that the compulsion had anything to do with his sudden affinity for sports.<p>

For once, things went according to plan. Kol had been there with Jeremy when they arrived, offering advice on Jeremy's stance (apparently he needed to choke up more on the bat). Once he caught sight of Damon and Elena, however, Kol had immediately revealed his true colors. Jeremy's look of hurt when Kol declared they weren't "buds" was unmistakable. Elena had grabbed Jeremy and hung back from the fight, ready to spring to action if things looked dire, but otherwise content to let Damon take the lead, to mask her true nature from Kol. There was no need for her intervention. Oh, sure, Kol shattered a few of Damon's ribs, but that was entirely within the bounds of acceptable damage. And Damon got his revenge in short order, staking the Original with a shattered Louisville Slugger. Leaving the bloody temporary corpse behind, they whisked Jeremy to the car. Fast. Easy. Elena had barely opened her mouth during the whole exchange, which was for the best.

"What are you guys doing here? And where are we going?" Jeremy asked. "I mean, I'm glad to see you and all, but I promised the Johnsons I'd mow the lawn this afternoon. I gotta get back."

Elena turned from the front seat to examine the boy. They'd been feeding him well—Jeremy had filled out and bulked up, strong and healthy. And there were even the faint beginnings of a tan, something she hadn't seen on him since long summers at the lake so many years ago, before he'd retreated to his room and his music and his pot. There was a pang of something brief and painful as she looked at him, so like his old self, so like a normal teenage boy. Elena immediately moved to suppress the aching, pathetic love and sorrow, but the stab of weakness would not go quietly. It wasn't time for this. Not yet. She ruthlessly forced the escaped feeling down. There. Better.

"We're going back to Mystic Falls, Jer. Don't you miss home?" Elena asked.

Jeremy looked stricken, the last traces of happiness fleeing. "No, I don't. I came here and I've never looked back. I don't want to go home, Elena, I can't go home." His breath came in rasping pants, his eyes wide. "I can't look back, I can't go back to Mystic Falls. Turn the car around. We have to go back."

"What's wrong with him?" Elena asked Damon, frowning back at her brother. "It's okay, Jer. We won't let anything happen to you in Mystic Falls." A lie. No one was safe from Mystic Falls, but Jeremy belonged to that place as much as she did. He was a Gilbert, and his place was in the darkness.

"I can't go back there. I won't go back there. Let me out, let me go," Jeremy pleaded, scrabbling at the sides of the car, as if looking for a door handle.

"_Fuck_," Damon said. The tires screeched as he pulled the car onto the shoulder. "Ruptured spleens always make me stupid. It's the goddamn compulsion."

"Oh, that's all? I can do it," Elena said, too softly for Jeremy to hear. Jeremy was making a low noise, a keening deep in his throat. Another pang shot through Elena. Another suppression.

"The hell you can. There's an art to this, Elena, you don't just go stirring shit around in his brain and hope for the best. And he's been compelled so many times it's like a house of cards in there—one wrong move and it all comes tumbling down." He craned around until he was facing Jeremy.

"Hey. Jer. Over here, Jeremy." He whistled softly and Jeremy made the mistake of looking at him. "Much better. It's okay for you to go back. You had a good time in Denver, but it's time to go back to Mystic Falls. You know your sister and I are trying to help you, and you're going to trust us a little bit here. Okay?"

Elena watched Jeremy, watched the blind panic fade to terrible blankness as he parroted Damon's words back to him before the light dawned in his eyes again. "Maybe it is time to go back. I really liked Denver, but...I've really missed everyone. Tell me, how's Bonnie doing? Is she...is she seeing anyone new?" There was such hope in his eyes. Such lingering puppy love for the girl he'd grown up with, the witch he'd fought beside, the woman he loved.

Damon and Elena exchanged a look. It was time. She'd have to find a way to make him understand. Elena unbuckled her seat belt and climbed into the backseat beside Jeremy. Damon turned back onto the highway. "A lot's happened since you left," she said softly. "Let me start at the beginning. It all started the night before you left..."

It should have been an easy story to tell. It was all just images flickering against the wall, meaningless and distant. But it wasn't so simple. Jeremy didn't hear the full story, but as she outlined their love, the truth of the bloodline, her choices and Bonnie's death, every moment of the past weeks replayed in her mind and in her heart with startling clarity. Lips meeting with electrifying intensity on the porch, a declaration of fear and a leap of faith in the firelight, the instant she'd realized this was love, the night she'd given herself to him body and soul. The choice to became what she most feared and hated—an insensate, brutish creature-out of love for him. It was her story—_their _story—and she couldn't pretend that this story had no meaning for her. It did.

Every word was harder to speak than the last as confusion, horror, betrayal, and loss played across Jeremy's face, each in turn. He didn't rage, he didn't yell, which was almost worse. She hid nothing from him, confessed that it had been she who murdered Bonnie. Damon didn't try to intervene, didn't try to save her this time. She told him about the switch, told him about the ring, why they'd come and their hopes he could help contact Rose and find a way to save them all. They'd just crossed the Kansas state line when she finished the long, twisted tale by explaining who Kol was and what he'd been doing in Denver. Jeremy said nothing. The silence endured.

"Jer?" Elena asked. She didn't know why, but she reached for him. It seemed right to hold him, to comfort him—wasn't that what she was supposed to do? He was her brother, the boy who had lost nearly everyone he'd ever loved. Except her. She had to convince him that he hadn't lost her—not forever, not for good. She was still his sister, and she would still protect him and care for him, in her own way, for as long as he lived. But he shied away from her touch, wouldn't let her near.

"I was so happy here, Elena. I was so happy." Jeremy shook his head and watched as the mountains behind them retreated into blue smudges in the distance.

There was a tickle on her cheek. Elena raised her hand to brush the annoyance away, but stared at her fingers in disbelief.

Tears. Her fingers were wet with tears.


	64. Bent

Elena scoured her face with her sleeve until her skin was raw. She half expected to see blood on the fabric from her frantic scrubbing, but there were only salty wet patches. It was impossible; they couldn't be tears. It had to be some kind of aberration. A purely physical reaction, not an emotional one. There must be an explanation for this, an explanation besides the fact that her fucking feelings were _leaking _everywhere. It wasn't time yet; she wasn't ready. She couldn't let it back in and deal with Jeremy's silent grief and Damon's rejection and blame and her own annihilating guilt and despair. It was too much for any person; it was certainly too much for someone as weak as she was.

It had just been this stupid trip down memory lane. Too much time to think and navel gaze. What they needed to do was to get back to the plan. They had to talk to Rose, they had to find out who had turned her, who had turned them all, and find a way to stay alive. All the bullshit _feelings_ in the world wouldn't matter if she was a pile of fucking ashes.

Though the Rocky Mountains had long since flattened into grain-swollen plains, Jeremy continued to stare out the rear window as if he could see all the way back to his mundane life in Denver. That chapter was done. It had been a nice dream, the idea that any of them could escape Mystic Falls and everything that came with it. But it had been an exercise in futility. Their destiny was in the darkness. The sooner Jeremy accepted that, the better.

"We need you to try to talk to Rose," Elena said, attempting to keep her voice soft. An edge of annoyance glimmered through, but Jeremy didn't seem to notice.

"Can't," Jeremy said.

For the first time in hours, Damon spoke, looking over his shoulder at the sulking boy. "How do you even know? Did you become an expert on ghosts in between batting practice and dog walking?"

Jeremy didn't rise to the bait. Didn't even look away from the window. "I could see Anna and Vicki because I knew them. I never even met Rose. Considering she kidnapped Elena and slept with you, it doesn't sound like I missed much."

"You watch your mouth," Damon said, his voice dangerously low.

"Eyes on the road, Damon-you're not helping," Elena said. Damon's jaw clenched, but he turned back around. "Jeremy, Rose was...not a bad person." She hadn't been a very _good _one, either, what with the kidnapping and the attempted murder and all, but she had her reasons. "And we need her. If we don't find out where the bloodline originated, we're all dead. Damon, Stefan, Caroline, me."

"What about Tyler? He's not in Katherine's bloodline, right? What happens to him if you kill Klaus?" Jeremy asked.

"If we kill Klaus, Tyler will die," Elena said. There was no point in hiding anything from him; he was a smart boy, he'd figure it out anyway. "At least the way it stands now. We're looking for other options, and we haven't decided what we're doing with Klaus yet. Right now, we just need more information. And you're the only one who can help us get it."

With a heavy sigh, Jeremy tore his gaze away from the western horizon. "Fine. Do you have a picture of her? I need something to concentrate on."

"What, a picture from our trip to Disneyland? Come on, Rose; don't be a bitch," Damon called.

"I have to have _something _to go on, dick; there are a lot of people on the other side. Tell me something about her," Jeremy ordered.

"Well, she did this thing with her tongue—Elena, you should get her to give you lessons while she's here," Damon said. Elena caught sight of his eyebrows waggling in the rear view mirror. A smile twitched on her lips. The moment she realized what it was, it morphed into a deep scowl_._ _No_.

Jeremy looked appropriately horrified. "Haven't I had enough trauma for one day without imagining you with my _sister_? Tell me what I need to know or forget this crap."

Damon leaned on the horn as a minivan puttered along in the fast lane, riding the soccer mom's bumper. The poor woman got a clue and dove for the comfort of the center lane. The engine roared as Damon opened the Camaro up, screaming along the interstate.

"Rose ran for half a millennium and never found what she was looking for," Damon said, his voice nearly lost in the growl of the engine. "She spent her last day in paradise, soaking in the sun and reminiscing about what it means to be human. And when death came, she didn't fear it."

Elena blinked. "I was with her on her last day, too—she was coughing blood and screaming in agony. It definitely wasn't paradise." Damon wouldn't meet her gaze in the mirror, just pressed the accelerator down a little more and watched the world streak past.

"It was in the dream he gave her," Jeremy said, dark eyes fixed on the passenger seat. "She's here."

The dream he gave her? Elena didn't have any idea what Jeremy was talking about. The last time she'd seen Rose, she'd been half mad with pain, the rot of the werewolf bite devouring her mind and body. But when she'd seen Damon, after it was all over...he'd been upset. Uncharacteristically upset for that time, a time when he was just beginning to feel again, just beginning to understand how emotions worked after a century of blankness. She made a mental note to find out more details later. For now, there were more immediate concerns.

"Rose says she misses you, Damon." Jeremy paused, something unreadable flickering across his face. "She—she misses you too, Elena." It was a lie. That wasn't what she'd said at all. What was he keeping from her? She shook it off. Unless it had to do with the bloodline, it wasn't important.

"So? Who turned her?" Elena asked.

They all watched the empty seat. It was difficult to believe Rose was right there, separated only by the thinnest of veils. Who else was here with them? Jenna? John? Mom and Dad? She shied away from the thought, unsettled at the idea of them seeing her like this. Not just as a vampire, but as an emotionless, empty _thing_. Elena fervently hoped they had better things to do than watch her.

"It was someone named Mary Porter," Jeremy said.

Damon made a small noise, almost a laugh. "Scary Mary."

"You know her?" Elena asked.

"Biblically," Damon leered. Jeremy and Elena shared identical eye rolls. "Long time ago. Where's the crazy old bat these days?"

"She doesn't know. Says to sit tight, she'll let us know when she finds something." Jeremy blinked, his eyes suddenly focused again, not gazing into that great beyond. Rose was gone.

"Thank you," Damon said. "Thanks for doing that, Jeremy."

"Yeah. Thanks, Jer. It's a start." She rested her hand on his shoulder.

"Whatever," he said. But he didn't shake her hand away. That was a start, too.

* * *

><p>Elena stood in the shower at another anonymous motel, letting the scalding water beat down on her skin. They were somewhere in Missouri; she didn't know exactly where. They'd all begun to droop once the sun set, Damon most of all, his body still playing catch-up after Kol's batting practice. There was no word from Rose, but Damon said Mary used to hang out in the Midwest anyway, so they might as well stop and get some rest rather than forging on and backtracking later. They'd wearily agreed.<p>

The boys both fell into the creaky beds the instant they'd reached the room. Even now, Elena could hear Jeremy's snores through the patter of water. When they were kids, she used to get so mad at him for snoring, storming through the bathroom and whacking him awake with a pillow to make the noise stop. He'd just grinned sheepishly and muttered "Sorry, 'Lena." She smiled at the memory.

No. That right there—that was the problem. The memory wasn't supposed to mean anything. It wasn't supposed to warm her cold, dead heart. Nothing was. But there it was, again and again. They kept cropping up throughout the day, little pangs when she least expected them. A rill of barely-suppressed laughter as Jeremy fought for—and won—control of the radio. A flutter of something gentle and familiar in her chest when she caught Damon watching her in the rear view mirror. A gutting wrench of pain when she scrolled through the contacts on her phone and caught sight of Bonnie's smiling face.

None of it should be happening. She'd tried everything. She'd gone back to that well she'd first sensed in the dungeon, mentally reinforcing the walls, covering it with stones, doing everything she could to keep those feelings locked away. She imagined herself in that glittering, insect-like suit of armor, carapace gleaming black in the sunlight, growing ever thicker and protecting her, inside and out. Yet old emotions swirled from the well like ghosts and new ones found chinks in her armor. Elena reached up, turning the water from hot to cold. The frigid droplets bounced off her skin. She scarcely felt their sting.

Dressed in her pajamas, she tiptoed into the darkened motel room. Jeremy lay sprawled in one bed, hopelessly tangled in the covers. Damon lay in the other, head pillowed on his arm, eyes closed. Elena sank into a straight-backed chair, beginning to work the knots out of her hair. She lost herself in the monotonous activity, teasing the tangles free, smoothing the brush from crown to tip over and over again. It was mindless and perfect, until she felt the weight of Damon's gaze upon her, blue eyes blazing like coals in the darkness.

She ignored him. If he wanted to pine over her, imagine she was the woman he loved (since he'd made it perfectly fucking clear that woman wasn't _her_), let him. She wasn't going to make the same mistake she'd made the night before—especially not with Jeremy in the room.

But he wouldn't look away, the heat of those eyes sending prickles down her spine. She turned to him in annoyance, intending to tell him to leave her alone and go to sleep, but he gave a little jerk of his head. An invitation.

If she were stronger, she'd turn away. If she were the island she pretended to be, she'd sit here until the sun rose, cold and aloof. Instead, she put her brush down and crossed the room. His gaze never wavered. Their shoulders touched when she lay beside him on the bed, the backs of their hands pressed together in the small space. Elena didn't know how long they lay there in silence, staring at the water stains on the ceiling, listening to the sound of Jeremy's heart, the whisper of the interstate in the distance. She breathed in his scent, strangely altered by the trip—always the smell of leather, but this time cut with harsh motel soap instead of sweet bourbon. Familiar and wrong.

His hand slid under her palm, long fingers moving to twine with hers. Her hand seemed to be frozen in a block of ice, unable to move against his, but equally unable to pull away. It didn't mean anything. It didn't mean anything. It didn't mean anything.

Bullshit.

"You saw," she whispered.

"You wanna tell me you had something in your eye?" he said.

"Why is this happening? Why won't it stay away?" Even her voice was pathetic, too close to a whimper, too full of things she could no longer deny she felt, but which didn't yet have names.

Shoulders moved against hers in a shrug. "Maybe there's no such thing as a switch; not really. Maybe it's just something we want to believe in so badly that it works, for a little while. Or maybe because you're ready to come back." He turned his head, looking at her for the first time. "Are you?" The words trembled in the air.

"I don't know." It had been less than a week since she'd killed Bonnie. Whoever said "time heals all wounds" obviously had more time than wounds to their name. She felt it all there, the guilt and the loss and the horror, all boiling beneath the surface. It was all there, real and terrible as ever.

But was that pain worse than this endless emptiness, the repudiation of everything she knew mattered—friendship and brotherhood and love? Was it worth a few tears to be able to comfort her brother when he needed her, to be the sister he deserved? Was it worth a little pain to laugh with Caroline as they tried on ridiculous costumes for the latest school dance? And was it worth a little guilt to hold Damon in her arms and know what it meant to love him again?

The room was too small; Damon was too close. Elena was outside and into the cool night before she'd even made the decision to go. Sickly yellow light stuttered. Elena heard the sound of bodies deep in slumber, bodies lost in one another. She watched the night without seeing, smelled dawn on the horizon.

Stefan had told her not to let the guilt define her. But wasn't that what it was doing now? Avoiding the guilt and pain had become her life, drowning out everything that might have allowed her to start to heal, to accept that she'd made a hard choice, a terrible choice, but a _necessary _choice. She was so busy running from the hurt that there was no opportunity to remember why she'd made it: for love. And if she was ever going to survive this, she would need that love, just like she would need her brother's love, her friends' love, and her own forgiveness. Her fingers slid beneath the straps of her camisole to wander the hard, raised lines of her scar.

Footsteps behind her, velvety like a cat's. "Elena."

She turned. He'd slung a black shirt over his bare chest, hadn't bothered to do up the buttons. The fitful light cast his face with ominous shadows. "I'm afraid to let it come back. I'm afraid I'll fall apart again."

"If you're afraid, you're already halfway there." He took a step toward her. Then two. Then she was in his arms.

Elena had thought she'd made the most difficult choice of her life when she'd slashed bracelets on her wrists and slid beneath the surface of the warm water. But this was infinitely harder. It didn't come back all at once when she drug the stones away from that well inside her and threw back the lid. The grief was first, the aching, visceral loss of her friend. Then guilt, a need to punish herself, to find a way to atone for what she'd done. Anger at Bonnie for forcing her to make such a choice, dozens of other feelings that left her gasping but so _full_ she was sure she would explode, unable to contain them all. It was too much, she needed to send them away again, push the stones back in and go back to the emptiness, anything to make it stop-

But then the last emotion returned, something which had lurked at the very bottom of the well. Elena remembered playing in the garden with Bonnie, laughing together, crying over boys, fighting shoulder-to-shoulder against Klaus, remembered the way her heart had swelled with pride and amazement when Bonnie made feathers float through the air. Remembered that no matter what had happened between them, no matter what circumstances had torn them apart, she would always, always love Bonnie Bennett.

Damon's arms encircled her and she wept against his cold chest, bent but unbroken.


	65. Wept

_To fit in better with my timeline, I've moved Scary Mary's house of horrors from Kansas to Kentucky. Prevents unnecessary backtracking, and we don't want to put more miles on Damon's Camaro than we have to, do we? Please enjoy, and I'll see you all after the new episode. Can't believe we're at 3x20 already._

* * *

><p>Grief and regret stabbed at her like a dull blade. Elena cried for Bonnie, remembering her as the laughing girl and not the cold and vengeful sorceress. She wept for Jeremy, the boy who had been torn from those he loved time and time again, the boy she had to drag back into a nightmare. And she shed a few tears for herself, for the choices she'd made and the blood she'd spilled. Damon held her, his cheek pressed to her crown. There would come a time for words, a time for apologies and I-love-yous; a time for hard questions and painful answers. But here and now, words were meaningless. All she needed was to let sorrow and love wash over her in alternating waves, to let Damon hold her close and convince himself she was back—battered around the edges, fractured at the seams, but whole again.<p>

"Hey, thanks for leaving me alone in there, assholes. It's not like an Original is trying to kill us or anything—whoa." Jeremy skidded around the corner, petering to a stop a few yards away.

Elena buried her face against Damon a moment longer, willing the curtain of tears to part so she could somehow face her brother. Jeremy finding them like this was somehow more intimate than if he'd caught them in some passionate embrace. A deep breath. Another. Damon released her from his grip, one arm still curled around her waist, strong and steady. Tears still spilled over the rims of her eyes as she faced Jeremy. She made no attempt to wipe them away.

"Elena?" he asked uncertainly. Pillow lines creased his cheek and his hair stuck up in gravity-defying cowlicks.

"Yeah, Jer. It's me." Elena wasn't sure what she'd expected to happen then; maybe some cathartic, teary-eyed embrace full of forgiveness and a promise that they'd put the past behind them and look to the future. That didn't happen. Jeremy just stared at her, stared _through _her, like he'd stared at the place Rose had been.

"Welcome back, Elena." He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, scuffing a bare foot on the ground. He almost seemed shy, as if greeting a long-estranged relation after an absence of years. But there was a little curve to his lips. "Missed you."

"So did I," she said, mustering her own thin smile for a fraction of a second before it collapsed. "I'm so sorry—about sending you away, about Bonnie." The name stuck in her throat like a bone. "About everything."

"Yeah. I know." He looked away, eyes hard. "There'll be time for all that later. Rose came back; Mary Porter's in Kentucky," Jeremy said.

"Perfect. Reunion's done, it's time for a little _Hoarders: Vampire Edition_." Damon started toward the motel room, towing Elena with him. "Saddle up—it's a long way to Kentucky."

"Can I drive?" Jeremy asked.

"It's good to see you haven't lost your sense of humor," Damon said. "That's important when you're in life-and-death situations. Besides, the last time I let someone else drive my car, I was picking gravel out of the undercarriage for days." He shot a pointed glance at Elena.

"It wasn't that bad—I was only a _little _off the road," Elena reminded him as the group ambled back to the motel room.

"Tell that to my poor Camilla," Damon said. "She'll never be the same."

"You named your Camaro 'Camilla'?" Jeremy asked, choking on a laugh.

"Shut it, Gilbert. Go get your shit together," Damon ordered. Jeremy grumbled, but disappeared into the room. Elena moved to follow him, but Damon caught her arm, pressing her against the grimy wall. He bent his head, dark hair falling before his eyes, lips hovering above hers. "You're kind of a bitch when your switch is off, you know that?" he murmured.

Another smile tried to break its way free. It was hard to smile; felt wrong, felt like a betrayal. But she had to try. "And you're a raging asshole when yours is off. What's your point?"

"No point; I just missed the _shit _out of you." He kissed her with ravenous hunger. "You're okay now," he said, his hand sliding up her arm, clasping her bicep. "You're okay." There was a tremor in his voice; he needed to believe the words, needed them to be true.

"I will be," she said. Not yet. "Okay" was still a ways off. But she was alive, awake, and moving forward. That was progress, and she'd take it. "For now, let's go find Mary. What was that you said about _Hoarders_?"

* * *

><p>"I hope when you two shacked up it was at your place," Jeremy said as they picked their way through the piles of moldering books and hideous knickknacks, the blue light from Elena's cellphone illuminating odd botanical prints and what appeared to be taxidermied animals.<p>

Elena had been adamantly opposed to Jeremy accompanying them into the weird old Victorian mansion, but Jeremy argued that he was safer between two vampires than he was sitting alone in the car. He had a point—he'd be long dead before they could reach him, even with super speed. Damon armed him with a crossbow from the trunk and told him not to put his eye out.

"A lot of freaky things seemed like good ideas in the '60s," Damon said, arms folded across his chest as he did his best to avoid touching the dirty, dusty mess that surrounded them.

"Eighteen or nineteen?" Elena asked.

"Nineteen, smart ass. Mary was-" A sharp _crack _from deep within the house had both vampires straining into the shadows. Nothing. Jeremy followed their gaze a second later. He was so slow—had she been that slow once? Didn't matter. They should have left him in the car.

"Stay here, Jer," Elena said as she and Damon moved as one toward the source of the noise. "No arguing."

Jeremy didn't argue; he just followed anyway. There wasn't time to fight. As Damon eased the door open, Elena caught blood in the stale air, like iron filings mixed with burnt cinnamon. Vampire blood. So she wasn't overly surprised to see the corpse pinned to the crumbling plaster, a sunburst of blood marring her white nightgown. She was considerably more surprised the vampire was staked to the wall with the shattered remains of a baseball bat.

"Poor Mary," a voice drawled. Elena whirled just as the lights flicked on. Kol sat in the corner, an aluminum bat slung over his shoulder. "I did _so _like her. But then, so did all my brothers. Except Finn; he never liked anyone, save for that nasty, common Sage. But Rebekah—she had a rather soft spot for old Mary, too." The slight man—little more than a boy, really- stood on tiptoe, stroking Mary's withered face. Elena's skin crawled. "Ah, well. All things must end in their season. Like the quest for your bloodline."

They knew. Somehow, Klaus—and by extension, Kol—knew about the bloodlines. They'd lost the upper hand. Fuck. If only they hadn't wasted so much time, maybe they could have beaten Kol here, saved Mary. But there was still Rose. If Rose could find Mary on the other side, they might still get the answers they needed.

"Sorry you came all this way for nothing, chums. But it does mean we can finish what we began back in Denver," Kol said. He tapped the sides of his shoes with the bat, knocking imaginary dirt away. There was the hollow ring of metal striking something solid, a tinkling explosion of bone, and Damon lay flat on the ground, moaning. So _that's _what separated an Original from the rest of the vampire race. Fast as Elena was now, she hadn't even seen him move. Kol continued with surgical strikes—a sweeping blow that dislocated Damon's shoulder, a punishing smash to the ribs.

The blows continued to rain upon Damon, but Elena couldn't move. It was happening again; it was all happening again. It wasn't Kol at all; it was a tiny witch, her hand outstretched, flames drifting through the darkness to that prone, still body. This was her second chance. There had to be a way this time, a way to save him and to save her, a way to avert all the pain, a way to bring Bonnie back. This time she could fix it, she could make it right. Had to be a way, had to be a way-

A crossbow bolt quivered in the wall beside Kol's head, blasting Elena from the past. This was not the boarding house; this was not Bonnie. Elena couldn't fall apart, not now, not when Damon and Jeremy both needed her. Jeremy. He stood with his crossbow still held aloft, defiance burning in his eyes as he stared down his former friend.

"Kol, you don't have to do this. They aren't going to hurt you. I know you're not a bad guy-"

"You poor, lonely boy. You're so desperate for a friend you'd even believe that _I'm_ 'not a bad guy.'" A grin twisted across Kol's face as he stepped across Damon's writhing body toward Jeremy, the bat dropping from his hands. Jeremy struggled to fit another bolt into the crossbow, but his hands trembled and he dropped the quarrel. The Original pinned him into the corner. "Every moment I had to listen to your pathetic angst was purest agony, _Jer._" The fond nickname turned taunt in his mouth. "I wanted so badly to end it all, to stop the whining, but you were needed. Leverage. But I suppose there's no need for that anymore, is there?"

Jeremy tried to inch away, to search for an escape, but there was nowhere to go and Kol was reaching for his throat with that mad glint in his eye. Before Elena could think, could really decide to move, the bat was in her hands and she swung toward Kol's head with all her might, blood pressing on her eyes as rage devoured her and the veins squirmed under her skin.

Kol caught the bat in one hand, not even bothering to glance at his assailant. Elena tried to wrench the bat away, but it may as well have been stuck in cement. "Nice try, Salvatore-" he caught sight of Elena's face and froze.

The bat fell to the floor with a reverberating clang as Elena clutched at her face, the vampiric mask evaporating as suddenly as it had appeared, retreating in the face of this dominant vampire, this terrible threat.

Kol laughed. "Oh dear, oh dear. Look at the little doppelvamp." He stepped away from the cowering Jeremy, eyes dancing with humor. "As much as I'd love to stake you for your impertinence, it will be _ever _so much more fun to watch Niklaus tear his heart out-" he nodded to Damon, who had managed to struggle to his feet, arm dangling at an unnatural angle "-and feed it to you, just before he severs your head from that pretty neck." Still chuckling, Kol moved for the door, pausing at the threshold. "Do please drive safely back to Mystic Falls, won't you?" He disappeared in another fall of cold laughter.

They were all dead.


	66. Finished

Mystic Falls wasn't burning. Not yet.

Elena expected to see dark billows of smoke on the horizon, a yellow glow painting the sky. At a minimum, she expected blood running in the streets, the wail of the damned and dying in the air as Klaus expressed his displeasure with her choices. But when they crested the hill and gazed down at Mystic Falls nestled in the valley below, it seemed so desperately normal. Just a tiny Southern town with its graceful square and antebellum relics, its inhabitants tucked into warm beds dreaming the dawn away. Quiet. Peaceful.

Yeah, right.

They'd made the trip back to Mystic Falls in record time, shattering speed limits and compelling police officers at every turn. After a few frantic phone calls warning the gang back in Mystic Falls of Klaus' wrath, most of the drive was made in silence. Every few hundred miles, one of the three would stir. "Maybe we could...," they started, but the ideas died before they were even given voice. What plan could save them now? Rose and Katherine had run for five hundred years from Klaus' wrath, lived desultory lives full of terror and loneliness. But running wasn't an option for them, and for once no one suggested it. If they ran, Klaus' vengeance on those left behind would be horrific. Even if they'd been willing to sacrifice everyone they loved, it would only be a temporary solution. Timbuktu, Tahiti, the surface of the moon, there was no place remote enough to save them. They all knew the score.

Holing up at Matt's place hadn't been her first choice. Hell, she hadn't even been sure he'd invite them in after the way they'd left things. But Matt's inherent decency had won out over his anger and he'd ushered them all into the small house, hurriedly picking up a few articles of dirty clothes scattered around the dark living room, dumping TV dinner trays into the trash. Elena didn't want to involve him, but their options for human-owned dwellings that Klaus didn't have an invite to were limited. Even her own house was no longer safe. She'd have to remind Jeremy to transfer the deed when he turned eighteen.

Elena peered out the front window into the darkened streets. He wasn't here yet. Why wasn't Klaus here yet? He should be on the doorstep, slavering and raging and threatening to destroy anyone she'd ever made eye contact with. Yet he wasn't.

"Too quiet," Damon said from behind her. His shoulders were slumped, bowed by some unseen weight. "Talked to Ric. Stefan pummeled him until his dark side popped out, apparently, and he found the stake. Handed it over to Klaus yesterday, before all this went down. I assume he burned it. It's gone." Then there was no way. Even if they found out they weren't descended from Klaus, even if they were willing to sacrifice every other vampire on the planet to save their own skins, it was over. Klaus would live forever, and they were doomed.

But Damon would never say die. "I was thinking, maybe we could call Katherine, get her to play decoy—take off somewhere, see if he'd follow her," he said.

A mourning dove called from the azalea bush outside the door, its gentle cooing too loud in the silent dawn. "Even if she would do it—and let's face it, she wouldn't—what happens after he figures it out? We're right back where we started."

"It would buy us time, dammit. Rose is still trying to find Mary, and once she does-" Elena pressed her fingers to his lips, smothering the words.

"And once she does, we have no way of killing him, even if he isn't our ancestor. It doesn't matter anymore," she said, letting her fingers wander from his lips, memorizing the feel of his skin. Maybe she should just give herself over to Klaus, let him torture her for a decade or two, flay the skin from her body and crush her bones to dust. Maybe if she went quietly, let him take all his rage out on her, he'd spare those she loved. Maybe.

Damon seized her wrist, but didn't pull her hand away. "Then what's _your_ plan? We just sit here and wait for Klaus to burn this place down around our ears? We might as well fucking stake ourselves and save him the trouble."

Elena wasn't sure there was a plan this time, wasn't sure there was a way out of her own stupid, selfish actions. In a fit of pique, she'd killed them all. If only they still had the stake, there might still be hope. If only Klaus was a normal vampire, there might be—wait. He might not be a _normal _vampire, but he was still a vampire.

"When Katherine found Mikael, he was unconscious, wasn't he? Chained up in a coffin and desiccated?" she asked, not quite daring to believe there was hope. It was still a long shot, but it was a shot.

"Yeah, took her forever to figure out that he only drank vampire blood, which still creeps me out, by the way. But what does that have to do with anything?" Damon asked, releasing her wrist.

"No matter how strong Klaus is, he has to drink human blood or he'll dry out, just like any other vampire. If we can incapacitate him, lock him up somewhere, let him desiccate—he'd be alive, technically, which means the bloodline would be safe, but he couldn't hurt anyone. He couldn't hurt us," she said. "We'd be free."

Damon shook his head. "There are only about a million contingencies in that. _If _we can overpower him. _If _we can lock him up. _If_-"

Elena silenced him again, this time with a kiss. Releasing him, she gave the tiniest of smiles. The gesture still hurt, but got easier every time she attempted it."Do you trust me?" she asked.

"When it comes to plans? No," Damon said with his own smirk. "Your track record blows, babe." He nuzzled into the small space between her neck and ear. "But I'm shit out of plans myself, and I refuse to just roll over and die."

"We may still die," Elena said. She was a realist. They weren't as strong as Klaus was, weren't as fast and had far more weaknesses than he did. They lacked magical backup. But they had something he didn't, something he would never have: they had someone to fight for. They had each other, and Klaus could never compete with that.

"Oh, probably. But this way will be a lot more fun. Let's give this motherfucker a taste of his own medicine." He gave a cruel, cold smile. "It's his turn to try a coffin on for size."

* * *

><p>The painting was a mass of black, paint caked on as if with a trowel. Klaus added hints of color with the utmost delicacy—a flash of crimson, an edge of cobalt blue. A bottle of red wine with a peeling label sat near at hand, a few empty bottles littering the floor at his feet. Elena stepped over two brunettes collapsed together in a heap of limbs, their throats chewed into lumps of ground meat.<p>

"You're _very _stupid to come here," Klaus said, still dabbing whispers of paint onto the canvas.

"Got tired of waiting to die," she said, doing her best to channel her inner Damon. She tried to sound cocksure and confident, but the words came off as peevish and tired. God, she was tired. "Thought I'd cut to the chase."

"How thoughtful of you." Klaus lay his brush down, retreating a few steps to regard the painting with a critical eye, still not giving Elena so much as a sideways glance. "Tell me, little doppelganger, how did it happen? Did your Salvatore finally realize he'd wanted Katerina after all, that only undead cunt would do? Is that why he turned you?" He stepped back to the painting, adding a feathery jot of emerald green to the writhing blackness.

Elena didn't even wince at his casual obscenity. What was the point? "No. Did it to myself. Got tired of everyone always asking to borrow a cup of blood. Being the doppelganger kinda sucked; this is much better."

He chuckled, a revolting sound. "I'm so glad you've enjoyed yourself. You'll want those memories to hold on to for the next hundred years or so." Faster than thought, he had his fingers twined through her hair, forcing her head back, her body arching toward him. He pawed at her breast through her shirt, fingers clamping around her nipple with incredible force, as if he might twist the damn thing clean off. She cried out, fumbling in her pocket. This wasn't going according to plan. Fuckfuckfuck. "Oh, yes. You and I shall have _such _fun. Perhaps now I can convince Caroline to join us, what do you think?"

The syringe of vervain freed from her pocket, Elena stabbed upward with all her might, aiming that needle straight at his heart. Of course she wasn't fast enough; she'd never expected to be. When he sent her sprawling across the room with a negligent backhand, it was all according to plan, even as painful stars shot across her vision and her jaw throbbed.

"Still a bit of fight left in you, eh? Good. I like it when they fight. It'll make it even more delicious when I get my hands on your beau. Kol had some ideas for him, he did." Klaus took his time oozing back over to her, and Elena didn't need to feign terror. There was only madness left in him, only the insanity of a man who knew he was doomed to walk the centuries alone, a freak, an abomination in the eyes of God and man. If this failed, if he caught her-

Luckily, Elena didn't even need to finish the thought. The wooden bullet shattered the window before it decimated Klaus' kneecap. The hybrid fell to his knees with a grunt of pain. Elena scrambled to her feet, trying to follow phase two of the plan—getting the hell out of the way—but even with a useless leg, Klaus was uncannily fast. His hand wrapped around her ankle, sending her crashing back to the ground.

"You _gash_," he gasped. Elena kicked and fought, but his hand might as well have been a manacle. She cast desperate eyes at the door. Faster, they needed to be faster.

The crack of another bullet rang out, this time burying itself into Klaus's shoulder. Matt stood in the door, shucking the casing from his rifle and barreling another round. "Let her go!" Jeremy watched his back, crossbow trained on Klaus.

Klaus did as Matt asked, releasing her with a laugh. Elena wasted no time scrambling to her feet and away from him. She could already hear the bones popping his knee, see the bullet beginning to work its way free, rejected by his flesh. "As you like. Go ahead, run. I'll give you a head start—only seems sporting. But you cannot kill me. I will find you."

"Never intended to kill you," Damon said, appearing behind the two humans. A heavy coil of steel chain was looped over his shoulder. "That's _way _too hard for us and _way_ too easy for you."

Klaus' eyes bulged at the sight. "Those cannot hold me—you cannot hold me. You don't know what you're-" He collapsed, a bullet lodged in his temple. All eyes turned to Matt. The boy shrugged sheepishly.

"I didn't feel like hearing another Darth Vader speech, okay? Let's just do this," he said, ejecting the cartridge and aiming at Klaus again, as if he might wake up at any moment. Which he very well could.

Elena picked up the fallen syringe, plunging its contents directly into Klaus' heart. Like the bullet, it wouldn't keep him down for long, but it would slow his healing. She hoped.

Damon was at her side with the chains. "You okay?" he asked, sparing her a worried glance, though most of his attention was focused on looping the chains around Klaus' prone body. Time was of the essence.

"I will be as soon as we've got him sealed in the tomb," she said. It wasn't a perfect solution, but it was all they had. Once he was weak, they could consider a more permanent home. But in the short term, it would do.

"That was neatly done," Esther said. Elena's heart sank. What an idiot. She'd actually believed it might be that easy, that this might be the end of a year of horror and running and fear. That for once, they might all be safe, they might all escape from this. But of course it wasn't so easy. Esther appeared from an interior room of the house. "Do you really believe that tomb will hold Niklaus?"

The witch prowled toward them, eyes fixed Klaus, his body half-mummified with chains. Damon, quick as a shadow, interposed himself between Esther and Elena. "Hey, sister, aren't we on the same side in this? You want Klaus gone, we want Klaus gone. Everyone's a winner here," he said, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

"Indeed I do. I very much like the idea of knowing exactly where my son is. But we both know he will escape when he awakes if you follow your plan. I can help you," she said. "The tomb is a place of great power, and I can call upon my sisters for assistance. We can ensure he will never see the light of day again."

"What's the catch?" Elena asked. There was always a catch, especially when witches were involved.

Esther smiled. "I shall require a small bit of your blood, Elena."

"No," Damon said automatically. "Not this bullshit again."

"What good is my blood to you?" Elena asked in confusion. "You were here—you heard. I'm a vampire, I'm not the doppelganger anymore."

"Perhaps not, but your blood is no less potent, merely altered in form. It is a magic of death instead of life." Esther paused at the table crowded with Klaus' pigments. She seized a cup, tossing the brushes it held aside. "A few drops of your blood and it is finished; Niklaus will never trouble you again. You will be free to do as you wish. You all will be." She extended the cup to Elena. "You have my word, this will be the last time I ask for your blood."

Elena hesitated. It seemed so easy, so tempting to just give her blood over one last time, let Esther seal Klaus away and never hear the word "doppelganger" ever again, to live the life she wanted, the life she'd fought for. "Death magic?" she asked. "What does that mean? What will you do with it?"

"That is not your concern. The spell does not involve you, merely your blood." Esther held the cup out again. "Do we have an accord?"

The stakes were gone; the bloodlines were safe. If Klaus was gone—really gone—for once, Elena might know what it felt like to awaken every morning and feel safe. She might know what it meant not to be a supernatural creature only valuable for what flowed through her veins, but just to be a woman who loved a man, a sister who loved her brother, a girl who loved her friends. She might go a month, a year, a lifetime without losing anyone else she loved. In that moment, the future was so clear and so perfect. She brought her wrist to her mouth, fangs springing free.

"We can't just take her word for it, Elena—this isn't the first time she's double crossed us," Damon said, hand on her elbow. "We'll just throw him in the tomb and then when he's weak, we'll get a fucking cement mixer and dump him at the bottom of the quarry. We don't need her."

"And what happens when Rebekah finds what has become of her brother? Or Elijah? Do you believe you can keep them out forever?" Esther said. "I can."

"Let me do this," Elena pleaded. "We can end this now. We can stop running—we can just live." Tears filled her eyes. Couldn't he see how close they were? In a moment, their greatest enemy would be beyond hurting them ever again. Esther had sworn her magic wouldn't concern them—let her do with it what she would. They could have a life. "This is the day you told me about, Damon. This is the day when we don't have to fight anymore. Please."

His face softened. "I hope you know what you're doing, Gilbert. I hope you're right." He released her.

Fangs bit into her wrist and the thick blood dripped into Esther's cup. The older woman smiled. "It is done. I will hold my end of the bargain. Bring him." Without a backward glance at her son, she strode to the door.

The two vampires and two humans stared at each other in stunned amazement. "That's it?" Jeremy asked. "After all this, that's how Klaus goes down?"

Elena looked at the unconscious Original cocooned in chains. In slumber,he looked so harmless, just another man. Pathetic, weak, sad. Damon seized the larger man and yanked him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. "It had fucking better be," he said.

Hope kindled inside her, a tiny and quavering flame. _Let it be finished_, she prayed as the strange procession made their way to the tomb.


	67. Danced

"Look, let's have our own decade dance at the boarding house instead. Play some Duke Ellington to start, slow it down with some Gershwin when it's time for the clothes to come off, dancing in the firelight...it'll be _way _better than whatever crap Caroline threw together in a high school gym," Damon said as he shrugged into his jacket. "I think I even have an old bottle of Macallan '26 in the cellar. Very authentic."

"We can do that any night. I want to see my friends," Elena wheedled. "Besides, this is a night to celebrate."

They'd done it, somehow. It hadn't been pretty. Klaus had awoken just as Esther put the finishing touches on the spell that would bind him within the tomb, impotent and trapped but desperately, hopelessly alive. His screams and threats as the door slid shut would live in her dreams for a long, long time. But it was really over.

In some ways, it was strange not to have a mortal enemy anymore. It was strange not to have to scheme and plot and fight and bleed every day. It was strange to wake up and lie in bed and have nothing more pressing to worry about than catching up on the mountain of homework that had accumulated during their road trip, or what she would wear to the decade dance. Strange, but Elena thought she could get used to it.

Oh, there were still problems. There always would be in this world of shadows she'd chosen. But for now, they were manageable. Ric still had some of Bonnie's herbs, and he assured them they were keeping his dark side at bay. He'd headed out of town for a few days to get his head together, and who could blame him? Jeremy was settling back into Mystic Falls slowly, but Elena had asked Matt for help keeping Jeremy moving in the right direction. The pain and guilt of Bonnie's death was still visceral and real, but she wasn't paralyzed by it. She, too, could keep moving forward. And there was no better way to remember Bonnie than to dance. It's what she would have wanted.

"Did you forget the part about how people always die at these shindigs? I can't believe the school still lets you have them," Damon said.

"That was only twice. They used to be a lot of fun, back before vampires rolled into town," Elena said. "Besides, if we just do it at the house, there'll be no reason for me to wear that cute little dress I have picked out, the one that ends about _here_." She indicated a spot high on her thigh.

Damon blinked, eyes focused on the location she indicated. "So, dance starts at eight?"

"Yep. Meet you here?" Elena stood, leaning in for a kiss.

Rather than meeting her lips, Damon slid a hand down her thigh, stroking the invisible hemline. Even through the thick fabric of her jeans, his touch made her shiver. "I think we can arrange that." He kissed her. "I'm not dressing up, though."

"Damon!" She put her hands on her hips. "Even _Stefan _dressed up. And you'd look so hot in a fedora."

"You're right; I did. Too bad you'll never know." He kissed her again, stifling her protests. "Now hurry along to school. Play nicely with the other students, study hard, and call me if you feel the urge to snack on any classmates."

"I'll be _fine, _Damon," she said. "It's all under control. I've got a little cooler of blood for lunch, and it's all going to be fine." The cravings for blood were still intense. The entire ride home from Denver, she'd been acutely aware of every variation in Jeremy's heartbeat, every change in his breathing, the gentle rush of blood in his veins. It had been distracting but manageable. Being around hundreds of those beating hearts would be hard, but Elena knew she could do it. She had to.

"Elena! We going or what?" Jeremy called from downstairs.

She stole one final kiss, grabbed her backpack, and headed down the stairs.

* * *

><p>Empty. Empty. Empty. Elena smacked the last stall door open with a trembling hand. Finally, she was alone. Splashing cold water on her face helped a little, but Elena could still see the faint blackness of veins, a few drops of red swirling in the whites of her eyes.<p>

Shit. She leaned heavily on the sink. It was too much, it was just too much. Things had gone so well at first. History, Biology, and Pre-Calculus all passed without a problem. She focused on the lesson, focused on catching up with her friends, focused on acting _normal _and not like everyone around her knew her secret, and it was fine. Fine. But as the bell rang at the end of third period and she was whisked into the mass of humanity in the hallway with their thumping hearts and sweet blood just waiting for her to set it free, the hunger and desire to grab her nearest classmate and tear them into blood-red confetti had overwhelmed her. She tried to keep it together, tried to go to her locker, tried to focus on what they'd be doing in English today, but her hands shook and she couldn't remember the combination and then the stupid lock just snapped off in her hand and it was too much. She fled to the bathroom, sitting in a locked stall, knees clutched to her chest, until the last heartbeat retreated.

Stupid. What an idiot she'd been to think she could do this. She wasn't in control, wasn't calling the shots. The monster inside of her was in charge, the monster who had killed Bonnie, the monster who wasn't satisfied with the cold, congealed blood in her locker, the monster who wanted the blood straight from a young neck or slim thigh, the monster who wanted it warm and vibrant and beating in time to a panicked heart.

She fumbled for her cell phone to call Damon, to tell him what a fucking _failure _she was and beg him to come get her out of here before she did something terrible. Before she could punch in his number, the door swung open. In a whirlwind she still didn't fully understand how to control, she flew into a stall, slamming the door closed. She couldn't be seen like this; she couldn't be around anyone right now. It wasn't safe.

"Elena?" Caroline called. "It's me. You weren't in class and I was worried, so I faked cramps and you know Mr. Peters gets totally grossed out at anything having to do with girly bits so he let me go," she said. "Are you okay?"

Taking deep breaths of useless air helped a little. Even better was the blessed silence from the other side of the stall door. No heartbeat, no whisper of blood in veins. Elena summoned the courage to peek out of the stall.

"Oh, honey," Caroline said as she caught sight of Elena's transfigured face. "It's one of those days, huh?"

Elena nodded miserably. "It just...it just kinda hit me. I don't know what to do, Care."

"First, you need to get out of that nasty stall so I can give you a hug." Elena couldn't help but obey, letting Caroline pull her into a fierce embrace. If only Caroline knew the truth about Bonnie, about what she'd done, she'd never comfort her like this.

"Caroline, I-"

"You're gonna be okay. It's been what, less than a week for you? You're doing great. You're doing so great. Not like when I first turned—God, I was _such _ a hot mess." She pulled back, smiling. "But you've got this. Elena Gilbert, savior of the damned, would never hurt anyone, right?"

"But Care, I'm _not_ doing great. I'm not doing great at all."

"I know it feels that way. I know exactly how it feels. Well, maybe not exactly—our circumstances were a little different." Caroline shrugged, voice devoid of bitterness or pity. "But I mean, I killed that guy at the carnival, even Abby tried to bite Jamie who's practically her son. That kinda stuff happens when you turn. But look at you. You've held it all together, even managed to get rid of Klaus and-"

"I killed Bonnie." The words ricocheted in the small space, too loud, too blunt. But Elena couldn't listen anymore, couldn't hear what a great fucking vampire she was when there was blood not just on her hands, but on her face, on her teeth.

Caroline froze, preternaturally still. "Damon killed her; you were there when he said it. Damon said he killed her in self defense."

Elena hesitated. She could still go back now, still let Damon take the blame. But she couldn't. She had to confess. "She was going to kill him. There was fire, and..." Just the memory of the night made her want to retreat into herself again, shove all the pain away and return to the blessed blankness. But that hadn't solved anything the first time. It wouldn't solve anything now. She steeled herself and went on. "I had to protect him, and...I lost it. I killed her and I let Damon take the blame. It was all me, Caroline. It was all me."

Tears welled up in those big blue eyes. Elena's own tears began to fall. In front of Caroline, it wasn't guilt she felt as much as shame. Shame that she hadn't been strong enough to control herself, to save Bonnie. Caroline would have. She made all this look so easy.

"I miss her," Caroline said through her tears. "I miss her so much."

"Me too. I would give anything to take it back, to have her back. I'm so sorry," Elena said.

"I guess I was lucky—that's not the right word, but I don't know what else to call it—that the guy I killed wasn't someone I knew. But it could've been. It really, really could have been one of you just as easily as it was him." She turned to the mirror, looking at her smeared mascara with despair. "I just...I don't know." She shucked a handful of paper towels out of the dispenser, dabbing under her eyes. "However it happened, she's gone. Crying isn't going to bring her back." There was a desperate calm to her voice. Caroline had lost so much lately—her father, her best friend, her own mortal life. Sometimes, you just had to carry on and not look back at what was lost. "I have to get to class."

"Caroline, I'm so sorry. I wanted to tell you from the start, but..." she trailed off. Did it matter why?

"I know. Look, I still love you. You're still my best friend. But this is kind of a lot to deal with. I'm just gonna go back to class. You should drink this-" she pulled a bag of O-positive from her purse, laying it on the rim of the sink. "-and go too. I'll see you at the dance, okay?" Heels click-clacked on the hard floor and Caroline was gone. Elena was alone with the blood.

* * *

><p>The school was so alive that night, full of laughing students in flapper gear and zoot suits. Elena stopped on the walk, staring at the school. "I can't do this."<p>

"Elena. I didn't get dressed up for nothing," Damon said. Despite his earlier protests, he'd gotten into the theme of the evening—just a little. It was simple enough, a charcoal gray shirt and black flannel vest, an ivory tie peeking at his collar. His hair was slicked back just enough to keep those floppy bits out of his eyes. It looked so very _Damon, _not at all like a costume. He looked fantastic. She still couldn't do this. Even with him by her side, she couldn't do it.

"What if I lose it again? What if Caroline hates me?" she asked. After her run-in with Caroline, she'd fled home. She couldn't face school, couldn't face all those beating hearts and Caroline's tear-streaked face. The rest of the afternoon had been spent watching bad made-for-TV movies and leafing through old photo albums. And crying. A lot of crying. Damon had managed to coax her out of the house, but now that she was here, Elena knew it was all a mistake.

"You're not going to lose it, but if you do, we'll leave. And Caroline will deal with it. The girl's nothing if not practical." Damon took her hand in his, brushing against the gardenia corsage he'd given her. releasing a wave of its sweet scent into the air. "This is what we fought for-the chance to live a normal life and do normal things. If you're ever going to put all that shit behind you, we have to keep going. Okay?"

"I hate it when you're right," she said with a tiny smile. Together, they walked into the swirling cloud of noise and light and heartbeats.

"But it happens so often," Damon said, drawing her onto the dance floor. And for the next hour, she didn't have time to think about Caroline or Bonnie or the warm, pulsing bodies around her. He kept her too busy dancing. They never tired, never stopped, never sat out a single song. He taught her all the old dances—the Charleston, the Lindy hop, a few she was pretty sure he made up right on the spot. Sometimes he just swung her around and around in circles until she couldn't help but laugh, the sound unfamiliar but sweet.

Every now and then, she caught a glimpse of her friends. Jeremy and Matt together by the punch bowl. Later, Jeremy on the dance floor with a girl Elena didn't know. Stefan standing quietly in the corner, arms crossed, surveying the scene with gentle amusement. Once, during a slow song, she made eye contact with Caroline, her friend clutching Tyler's neck and swaying to the music. Caroline just nodded. Elena smiled and turned her eyes to her own date.

Damon raised her arm high and twirled her—not because the music called for it, but because it pleased him. She obliged, but was happy to settle back into his arms. "Thanks," she said. "This was just what I needed."

"The more stuff like this we do, the less you'll remember the other parts. The easier it'll be to realize that this is our life now," Damon said.

Elena lay her head on his shoulder. "Did the dress live up to the hype?" she asked quietly.

She felt his smile. Fingers flirted with the hem of the skirt. "You may have exaggerated just a _smidgen_, but I'll accept the hyperbole. Mostly I'm curious what it looks like in a heap on my bedroom floor," he said.

Elena stopped to pick up her purse on the way out. Her phone was vibrating. "Hey Ric, what's up? How's the trip?"

"I'm not on a trip, Elena." Hysteria tinged his voice, breath coming in ragged gasps. "I don't know where I am or how I got here. I'm in some kind of tomb or crypt or something—there's blood everywhere. Help me."


	68. Survived

The Salvatore family crypt was a crumbling heap of gray stone. The family name was emblazoned in bold letters above the door, and dormant magnolias embraced the facade with boney fingers. Esther stood in front of the mausoleum, dressed all in white. Her face was transfixed with joy as she watched the door of the tomb like a bride waiting for her groom.

Damon and Elena skidded to a stop. Elena had worried they they'd have to search every tomb in the cemetery to find Ric, but obviously she shouldn't have worried. Of course Esther was here. Of course she was behind this. Of course her ten minutes of happiness had been too good to be true. "Where is he?" Elena asked. "What did you do?"

"I have given him his fondest wish," Esther said, tearing her eyes from the tomb door. "I have made him the scourge of the undead, the deadliest of hunters. He shall have his revenge on the creatures who took everything from him."

"The fuck you talking about, lady? Ric hasn't staked a vampire since...ever," Damon said.

"The spirit was willing, yet the flesh was weak. I have remedied that weakness. Now, he is capable of doing what my husband could not," Esther said. What the hell did that mean? While Ric might have come to town with the intention of staking every vampire he could get his hands on, that had all changed once he'd realized the situation with Isobel hadn't been as black and white as he'd believed. Now, Ric wanted what they all wanted: to survive, to maybe one day try to be happy.

"You mean getting rid of Klaus? Newsflash, we did that. Problem's solved," Damon said, storming toward her. Esther extended a hand in warning and Damon checked his step with a growl.

Esther turned away from the tomb, the zealous light fading from her eyes. "I unleashed a great evil out of foolish maternal love," she said softly. "I have spent the past thousand years regretting what I did to my children, what I did to the world. It is only now that I am able to correct my error." She floated forward, reaching out to Elena with open arms. "Elena, even you must see the truth of my words. You know what they have done—what _you _have done. You know the world would be safer if vampires were no more. The world would be safer for people like your brother. Jeremy, isn't it?"

"Don't talk about him. Don't even say his name." Elena hissed, but Esther's words were already worming their way into her heart. Esther was right. The world would be better without them, better if the dead buried their dead and there were no vampires to prey on humans from the shadows, to turn on the people who loved them most. Humans would be safer, the world would be brighter, Jeremy would be happier if they were all gone. That much was undeniably, indisputably true. Yet it wasn't the whole story. Elena wavered. She should attack Esther, should rip her to shreds for laying a hand on her guardian. But she couldn't; Esther was making too much sense.

"Leave Jeremy and Elena out of this—your crazy doesn't concern them. What did you do to Ric?" Damon asked in measured tones, tearing Elena from her guilt-ridden spiral. What the hell was she thinking? Who was Esther to get to decide that none of them deserved to exist? Because they'd wrought evil on the world? By that logic, Esther should kill all the humans while she was at it, creatures who had victimized themselves far more than their vampiric predators ever could. Like any species, there were the good and the bad, and Esther didn't get to decide which was which.

"He will be the instrument of my atonement. It's all thanks to you, Elena. The blood of a doppelganger, living or dead, is a powerful thing. Your Alaric will complete his mission and will die in the service of humanity." A mad smile curved her lips. "Well. He will die again."

Elena heard the whistle of the arrow a bare second before it plunged into Esther's throat. Her eyes were round coins as she fell to her knees. Blood cascaded from her ruined jugular, smelling of must and decay. Her heart beat once, twice more, then was still. She collapsed like a broken marionette.

Jeremy stood behind them, crossbow still raised high, face full of that grim determination Elena had seen only once before, when he'd clutched a cleaver and sent a head rolling across the porch. "Where is Alaric?" he asked in a tremulous voice. "We still have time to save him."

"Jeremy, what are you doing here?" Elena asked. It was the simplest question, the only one she could bear to ask. The other questions were too difficult, and she didn't want the answers. Esther had murdered Ric, done something with the blood Elena had given to her. Selfish, stupid girl. She'd tried to buy her happiness and had wound up destroying them all. Why did the price always have to be so high? But Ric was alive, Ric had_ called _her, and that meant...no, that couldn't be what it meant.

"I heard you two talking about Ric and the cemetery, so I followed. Good thing I did—you were starting to _listen _to her, Elena." Jeremy accused, tossing the crossbow against his shoulder as he stalked forward. "Alaric! Where are you, Alaric?"

Damon blinked out of his trance and surged to the tomb door. With a negligent yank, he pulled the heavy iron gate open. The three of them stepped into the mausoleum.

"It's about time," Ric said weakly. He sat propped in a dusty corner, the coffins of long-dead Salvatores on either side. An empty bowl sat on a low stone altar; the floor around Alaric was sticky with repellant blood. This blood was _wrong, _as spoiled and sour as old milk. Clutched in Ric's hand was a strange silver stake, thick veins bulging from its surface. "What the hell happened?"

"Was hoping you could tell us," Damon said. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to go into tombs with strange women?" The joke was strained, a desperate hope that Esther had lied, that this wasn't exactly what it looked like.

"I...I don't know. The last thing I remember was Stefan, telling him to hit me harder, to make my dark side come out. Then I woke up here, blood everywhere." He pawed at the ragged hole in his shirt. "My ring was gone, and I had this." The stake gleamed in his hand. "I heard yelling, and...I smelled something." The confusion on his face gave way to longing, incessant and insatiable need. That look broke Elena's heart in two. She'd chosen this, she'd asked for this. Ric never would have wanted this life. He might drink with vampires, might respect her choice, but he would never turn out of boredom, as Isobel had, or for love, as Damon and Elena had. Ric's humanity was everything, and now it had been stolen from him in the name of revenge. But Ric was strong. He could adapt, he could learn to survive. She'd help him, and they'd get through this together. They had to.

"It's going to be fine. Everything's going to be fine." Elena turned to Damon. "We have to get him some blood. It's not far to the house, I'll go grab a bag and-"

"I'm—I'm in transition?" He laughed, rusty and thin. "Oh, God is _too _fucking funny sometimes."

"You are, but hey, this is nothing we can't get through." She had to hold it together for him. He needed someone to be strong now, and she could be that person for him, help him understand what was happening and what he needed to do. "We just have to get some blood and then it'll all be okay."

"No," Ric said. "I'm not going to complete the transition."

"What?" Elena asked.

"You have to!" Jeremy cried.

Damon was silent.

Ric pushed himself to his feet, wincing. "My dark side was dangerous enough when I was a human. If I transition...Elena, you know how it works. That's the part that will become strongest. The darkest part of me will be all that's left. I can't be a vampire."

"You can't leave," Jeremy said. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, entire body trembling. "You can't just abandon us now. We _need _you, Alaric."

"I don't want to. But this is the best thing for you. After everything that's happened, after everything that I've done...maybe I deserve this," Ric said, his eyes soft as he watched Jeremy.

"What about what we deserve? What about what _I _deserve? We need you," Jeremy pleaded again.

Elena found her voice. "Jeremy's right; this isn't your fault." Ric hadn't wanted this to happen, had never wanted to hurt anyone. Hell, he hadn't even been able to hurt Damon when push came to shove, had turned his wife's murderer into his best friend. He never would have hurt Bill or Meredith or any of the others if he'd been himself. Ric was a good man who had been overcome by something darker and stronger than he was, just as Elena had been. If she deserved a second chance, then so did he. And she couldn't lose him. Not him, too. Not her last tie to Jenna, not the good man who had taken care of two orphans simply because they had no one else.

"Please, guys. Let's not make this harder than it already is." The words caught in Ric's throat. "You should go. Damon—you'll make sure it goes down the way it's supposed to. Right?" He looked to his friend, eyes shining in the dim light.

Damon stood to one side, brushing his fingers across a simple pine box, back to them all. "Yeah. You two should go."

"So we're just going to lock you in here and wait for you to die? Is that how this is 'supposed to go down'?" Jeremy asked. "Then we're just going to come back to your body, dig another grave next to Jenna's? You don't have to do this, Ric. You don't have to die."

"I'm already dead," Ric reminded him gently. "It's too late, Jer. It's too late." Jeremy's face grew pale. He spun on his heel, beginning to march out of the tomb. "Hey," Ric said.

Jeremy stopped, shoulders shuddering, back still to the teacher. "Don't. Don't give me some crap speech about how I have to be the man of the house now."

"Okay," Ric said. He stepped in front of Jeremy and hugged him. For a moment, Jeremy seemed to have forgotten what it meant for someone to hold him, to just love him as a friend and a son, but his body remembered and he clutched at Ric. Then he fled the tomb.

Ric watched Jeremy go before he turned to Elena, a half smile on his lips. "Thank you," he said.

Elena couldn't contain an incredulous laugh. "Thank you? How can you thank me? You didn't want any part of this, Ric—you gave me your ring back, you moved out, but I forced you to stay and take care of us." Her fault. This was all her fault. More tears sprang to her eyes—how on earth could she have any tears left? Surely she'd cried enough to drown the whole world by now, yet still there were more.

"Taking care of you and Jeremy has been the closest I've come to the life I always wanted." He smiled ruefully. "Not that I did a a very good job at it, considering you've both died twice while I was supposed to be looking out for you."

"You did great." She flung her arms around him. "You did great," she repeated. He didn't have to die; he didn't have to go. She could still go get the blood, pour it down his throat, force him to stay with them, to be the parent and the friend they all needed. But the moment of madness passed. It was Ric's choice. She couldn't force him to stay. But she couldn't force herself to leave. If she let him go, that meant accepting another death, going home to another empty bedroom, another empty chair, another hole in her heart.

"Elena." Damon turned from the coffins. "You need to go now. Your brother needs you." He gave a tiny nod, his face carefully blank, eyes dark and unreadable.

She didn't want to go; she wanted to stay at Ric's side until the bitter end. But that wasn't her role in all this. Ric had turned to Damon in his final moments, knew his friend was strong enough to ensure everything happened for the best. Elena gave a nod of her own and stepped into the chill night.

Heartbeats guided her down the hill and over the little footbridge to the willow tree where Jeremy knelt. If you looked closely, just to the right of the small headstone marked "Sheila Bennett," you could see the gentle heap of soil, the edges of the sod ragged like slowly healing wounds.

Elena hovered outside the curtain of willow branches, unwilling to intrude on Jeremy's solitude. She had no right to even be here. Time passed. Jeremy sat in silence, fingers tangled in the thick grass that grew on the double grave. Finally, Jeremy looked up at her, lips trembling. "What do we do now?"

In an instant, Elena was at his side. He flinched away at the inhuman movement, but Elena didn't yield. "The same thing we always do, Jeremy. We keep going, we don't look back, and we survive."

"How can I not look back? Memories are all I have." Tears spilled out of his eyes. He swatted them away.

The urge to tell him that she'd protect him, that she would never let anything bad happen to him, was nearly overwhelming. She was his big sister; that was her job. But even as strong and as fast as she was now, Elena knew she couldn't keep that promise. "All of the people you love, all the people who are gone, none of them would want you to live in the past. They'd want you to keep living. We'll get through this together, Jer. We have to."

Her brother just shook his head. Heavy footfalls sounded. Damon swayed his way toward them with unsteady steps. Before he'd even crossed the bridge, she could smell bourbon on the breeze. "You're drunk?"

"It's Ric," Damon said, as if that explained everything. "I had a bottle in the car, and what the hell else were we gonna do?" His head was bowed, hair falling free of its pomaded grip and spilling across his eyes. "Besides, it'll be better this way. He's asleep. Just won't wake up, is all."

"But he's still alive?" Jeremy asked. "And you just left him there?"

"It's over. You don't want to remember him that way, kid," Damon said. Jeremy shot him a dark glare and stomped up the hill. They watched him disappear into the tomb. Damon shoved his hands into his pockets, body folded in on itself. Elena wanted to bury herself in his arms, sob into his shoulder as she had so many times before. But she couldn't put her grief on him. When he was ready, she would have to be _his_ rock. Not yet. Damon wasn't ready to mourn yet, and Elena wasn't ready to help him through it. Not when her own pain was still so raw, not when Ric still clung to life.

A scream punctured the night. They raced up the hill just in time to see a flash blur away through the headstones. Jeremy staggered from the tomb, clutching his neck. Blood dripped from between his fingers, but his face was defiant. Triumphant, even. "He's alive. Ric's alive," he gasped.

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><p><em>Before you start messaging me, I know they've indicated that doppelblood doesn't work once you've turned. But (1) did they ever actually try to work magic with vampire doppelganger blood? And (2) none of the doppelblood stuff makes sense anyway, so I decided to just go with it. Hope you don't mind too much. See ya'all after sunset. <em>


	69. Remembered

Damon slammed Jeremy against the wall of the crypt, pinning the boy against the cold stone with his forearm. Withered, leathery magnolia leaves tumbled to the ground. "What the _actual fuck _is wrong with you?" he demanded.

"Damon, let him go! It was an accident, Ric just woke up and bit him. You know what it's like when you're in transition," Elena said, tugging at Damon's arm. But he didn't budge, didn't even glance her way. His eyes were fixed on the squirming, coughing, bleeding Gilbert in his grip.

"It wasn't an accident," Jeremy gasped. His face was pale but proud. "I saved Alaric's life—what you two should have done."

"You're brain damaged. Just fucking _touched_," Damon said. He shook Jeremy, and Elena heard his teeth rattle. "Don't you get it? That's not Ric anymore. That's some _thing _wearing his face and trying to kill pretty much everyone you've ever met."

"No. Ric wouldn't do that. He just ran away because he was scared, that's all. He'll come around and we'll go back to being a family again," Jeremy said. Elena had to turn away; the hope in his eyes was too desperate, too painful. She wanted nothing more than to turn to Jeremy, look into those brown eyes so like her own and make him forget everything. Take away all the sordid details of his miserable life, all the death and pain, fill his head with new memories, new parents, new loves that hadn't ended in blood and death and fire and send him away, across oceans and continents, to a place where no one even knew the word "vampire." Let him live a life of lies, but let him live a _life. _But she couldn't. Selfishly, she couldn't send him away again, couldn't take that pain away. But God, she wanted to. More than anything, she wanted to.

Damon's voice was soft, almost gentle. "Ric made his choice. You took that from him, kid. You took that from him." Fangs clicked into place; the familiar smell of Damon's blood, iron and spice, mixed with the must of Esther's blood, the spoiled-milk foulness of Ric's. When Elena turned back to them, Jeremy was wiping his mouth.

This wasn't the time to chastise or berate Jeremy; it sure wasn't the time to mourn (it never was). It was the time to keep moving because, like a shark, if they stopped moving, they'd surely die. "If what Esther said is true, he's trying to kill all vampires. But he can only kill one of the Originals, right? There's only one stake."

Damon popped his head into the tomb, withdrawing a moment later. "That weird silver stake he had is gone. I'm gonna guess Esther did some witch bullshit to it; she seemed to have a plan." He glanced down at the crumpled witch on the ground. Raising one foot, he brought a booted heel down directly on her face. Once. Twice. Three times, until the face had become a gaping hole in a hollow skull. He scraped his boot clean on the grass.

"Two Originals in town, right? One beef jerkified, one blond and bitchy," he said as if nothing had happened. Elena blinked. Great. Rebekah. The only thing that could make this miserable night worse would be Rebekah's callous indifference. Or worse, her rage at what they'd done to Klaus. Perfect. "Better get the bitch out of the way first." He turned to leave.

"Wait, slow down. What are we going to do if we find him? In case you missed it, Ric's like Mikael now. As in, can't be killed," Elena said.

"Don't call that thing Ric," Damon said, his voice so low Elena wasn't sure Jeremy could hear him. Something dark and cold flitted across his face. "Alaric Saltzman died tonight. Don't _ever _forget that." Then the mask was back. Damon shrugged. "Anyway, Mikael died, all right. Unless you forgot the night of my brother's greatest idiocy. Hey, maybe our siblings can compare notes on what it's like to be _complete fucking morons." _

"Shut up, asshole," Jeremy said, but it was a heatless, perfunctory gesture.

"Okay, fine. Let's just go find him and end this," Elena said. She was tired of the bickering, tired of the fighting. She just wanted to go home, pull the covers over her head and sleep for a hundred years or more. Once this was over, she just might.

Who was she kidding? It would never be over.

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><p>The sun was bright and beautiful. Not a cloud in the goddamn sky. Birds were chirping, like everything was fine. Elena wanted to systematically hunt them down and drain their teeny, tiny bodies to their feathery dregs. Anything to shut up that awful, cheerful singing.<p>

Damon slammed the door shut behind them so hard it rocked the Gilbert house foundations, walls shuddering uncertainly. Jeremy appeared at the top of the stairs, a smudge of paint on his forehead. Why was there paint on his forehead? Elena was too exhausted to even ask. She just shook her head. Jeremy dropped his eyes to the ground and disappeared into the bowels of the house.

Rebekah had fled town; the mansion was a shambles of slashed paintings and shattered sculpture, clothes and crumpled bodies strewn among the wreckage. Damon had called her cell and left a message warning of the danger (why he had Rebekah's number was a question Elena didn't have the energy to worry about just now). Klaus was still sealed in the tomb—they'd heard the soft rattle of chains from within the ghastly prison and a tinny, keening sound of horror that never paused for breath. They left quickly.

The rest of the pre-dawn hours were spent scouring Mystic Falls in all of Ric's old haunts—his loft, the Grill, the witch house, anywhere else they could think of that had held significance to the dead man, or might hold significance to the hunter with his face. Nothing. Just nothing.

"Unless Esther gave him a Prince Albert, he didn't have any day-walking jewelry," Damon said as he yanked his jacket off, throwing it onto the couch. "We've got a few hours to figure something out."

Elena nodded and drifted up the stairs to check on Jeremy. He was in Alaric's bedroom—Jenna's bedroom. He was attacking the wall with primer, a can of the truly hideous green paint they'd used to paint the basement years ago cracked open beside him. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Painting."

"Oh." Elena picked up a brush. "Why?"

"Because I can't burn this room down like I want to, so this will have to do." Jeremy said, furiously rolling the thick white goo onto the walls.

Elena dipped her brush, delicately stroking at a bit of trim. "I wanted to do it too, Jeremy. I wanted to save him," she said.

"But you didn't. You would have just let him die there, all alone," Jeremy said.

"It was what he wanted. His choice was all he had," she said. Just like it had been all Bill Forbes had. Just like it had been all she had.

"Yeah, and I'm the dick who ruined his life. I got it, Elena." She started to tell him no, that it wasn't his fault, that everything was okay and it would be okay because no matter what he'd done, the parts that were really Ric were gone and somewhere else, somewhere better, but he wouldn't let her comfort him. He never had, really. "Just go. I want to be alone."

She lay the brush down. "I'll be downstairs if you need me," she said. She left.

Damon stood at the liquor cabinet, examining a bottle of bourbon with a critical eye. "Aren't you still drunk? How can you drink any more?" Elena asked as she flopped onto the couch.

"There is not enough drunk in the world right now," he said, settling on a bottle and pouring a glass nearly to overflowing. The man had a point.

"Give me one," she said.

Damon managed to be a bit neater with this one, shoving it into her hand as he collapsed in a chair opposite her. The bourbon tasted of smoke and ashes; it tasted of sweetness and loss. She drank it in tiny sips. Everywhere there were reminders of him: the pile of half-graded tests, the neat stack of Sports Illustrated magazines on the coffee table, the little pot of vervain growing in the window sill, the one he'd tended to so carefully.

"Do you remember that time Ric accidentally set the vervain grenade off in the great room of the boarding house?" Elena asked, swallowing a giggle as she remembered Ric's sheepish grin as Damon had ranted at him about how hard it was going to be to get the smell out of his drapes.

"How could I forget? I couldn't go home for two fucking days," Damon said, taking a great gulp of his drink.

"But you stayed with us and we all got drunk and played Pictionary, you and him against Jeremy and me, and you kicked our asses," she said.

Damon looked up from the depths of his drink, the faintest smile twitching around his lips. "Remember the first day you started training and we were setting up that practice dummy and Ric insisted on drawing a face on it?" he asked.

Elena couldn't stifle the laughter this time; it exploded without warning. "'Your enemy's gonna have a face, Elena; you might as well get used to it,'" she said in Ric's gruff growl.

"Too bad it wound up being cross-eyed. Not the motivation he was looking for, I think." Damon downed the last drops, looking sadly at the empty glass. "Oh, Ric. Ric, Ric, Ric." He set the glass down, head hanging low, fingers gripping his hair. The gesture was so vulnerable, so _raw_, Elena wanted to look away; hell, wanted to flee the room and leave him to his solitary grief. But she didn't. She stood and grabbed the bottle, refilling both their glasses and perching on the arm of his chair. She hoisted the glass high.

"To Ric, a good man," she said. Without looking up, Damon took the glass. They drank.

"To Ric, the worst vampire hunter ever," Elena said. Damon snorted. Again, they drank.

"To Ric," Damon said quietly. "My friend." They drained their glasses.

"What you said to Jeremy is true. Ric is gone, he's on the other side." She swallowed, pushing the empty glass away, the bitter sweetness lingering on her tongue. "He's with Jenna now." Maybe Isobel, too. Elena didn't know. Ric had loved truly and well, and Elena hoped they were all waiting for him. "He's at peace." He had to be. If anyone had earned their peace, if anyone deserved a blissful eternity, it was Alaric Saltzman. If there was any justice in this world, any of that balance witches loved to talk about, there was one hell of an afterlife waiting for that man.

Damon didn't respond. He wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face against her side. There were no tears, no hysterics. He held her; she stroked his hair. Strangely, no tears prickled her own eyes, only the gentle tug of loss. She missed him, a dull and physical ache around her heart, but Elena was getting better at this mourning thing. The days ahead would still be hard; there would still be days when the tears came and the loss was almost too much to bear. But Ric would be the first to tell her that she was strong enough to bear the pain, that she just had to put one foot in front of the other. And she would. So would Damon.

When he was ready, he released her, eyes as bright and as hard as cobalt glass. "I know. I know he is. Now let's figure out how we're going to kill that motherfucker."


	70. Echoed

_Can you believe it guys? 70 chapters. 1,000+ reviews (Which, insane. Never in my wildest dreams, you guys. **Thank you**). 21 episodes. One to go. Hard to believe this story will be nearly over this time next week. The next time I write, we'll have 22 episodes in the can and we'll be figuring how to bring this home, how in spite of everything, our characters might just make it and have that happily-ever-after thing. We'll see how it goes. In the meantime, thank you for being generally awesome, and enjoy this chapter._

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><p>The sound of their footsteps ricocheted off the lockers, bounced disconcertingly around the cavernous school hallway. The decorations from the Decade Dance were exhausted in the light of the new day, helium balloons wilting to the ground, sparkly banners half-torn from their posts. Elena and Jeremy hurried through the deserted halls, beating a familiar path to Ric's classroom. This was just a quick stop to clean up the more obvious vampire hunting gear, since it wouldn't do to have some substitute finding his spring-loaded stake launchers while looking for his lesson plans. As soon as they were done, they'd go back to hunter patrol. Stefan, Damon, and Caroline were already back out searching for him, covering all the old ground again, searching for some sign of the monster. But Elena and Jeremy needed to do this first.<p>

"Do you really believe that isn't Ric anymore?" Jeremy asked. He'd been quiet on the drive over, but had insisted on coming. Elena had let him. She didn't have the heart to leave him in that room, trying to cover those memories over with paint. And it wasn't like the kid couldn't take care of himself—he'd been the one to take out Esther while she and Damon had just stood there gawking. The kid from the stoner pit who'd gotten the shit beaten out of him by Tyler Lockwood was long gone. Elena didn't even know if that was a good or a bad thing. Probably a little of both.

"Ric never would have hurt me, and his alter ego did. Twice. So if that's all that's left since he turned, if that was part of Esther's spell...then yeah, I think he's gone." She hoped that was the case. Damon had been so adamant about it, so firm about the fact that if they saw "Alaric," they had to forget they'd ever loved him, that they had to put him down like a rabid dog. Elena was trying to remember that, trying to mourn her friend even as she remembered that his body was now in the possession of something without empathy or emotion. But it was a struggle. They turned down the social studies hallway. Posters bearing the faces of presidents and other dead guys lined the walls.

"Sometimes I think the universe is punishing us. I wish I knew what we've done to deserve it," Jeremy said. "Neither of us are bad people, so why does all the shit have to happen to us? That's not how karma works."

How could she argue with the boy who had lost his parents, three parental figures, and three girlfriends in the course of a year and a half? He was right. The entire Gilbert family had more than their fair share of suffering crammed into just eighteen months, not even counting what had happened with Johnathan and Samantha Gilbert so many years ago. But Elena didn't have answers about why the family seemed to be on the universe's shit list. Wished she did, but she had the same questions. "Probably a family curse," she said wryly.

"I only wish you were joking," Jeremy said. "But that's probably the most likely explanation. This town."

Elena quirked a little smile as she pushed the door open. For all her enhanced senses, for all her super speed, she still never saw it coming. Rough hands gripped her head, one at her crown, the other beneath her jaw. The pain was brief as her head was pulled brutally to the side. Elena heard her spine crack like green wood. The blackness swallowed her before she even felt the pain.

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><p>Elena had thought that so much pain would blur together, becoming indistinct and fuzzy in its overwhelming awfulness. But she had no such luck as consciousness returned. Each pain was specific and unique in its own way—the cold fire in her mouth, the razorblades shooting down her throat and into her lungs, the sharp pains in her neck as vertebrae ground against each other, rearranging themselves into a configuration that would support life, the splintery pain in her hands as her body desperately tried to heal around some foreign intruder in her flesh.<p>

"This was what you wanted, wasn't it? Thought you were pretty bad ass after you killed that hybrid, didn't you? Well here's your chance to keep going, to become the hunter you could be." The voice was familiar, even the rhythm and the cadence of the words were right. But that voice was devoid of warmth, cruel and mocking. Elena managed to tear her eyes open. She wished she hadn't. She sat propped in a desk in Ric's classroom, both her hands staked to the writing surface with number two pencils. But her own predicament wasn't the worst part. Not by a long shot.

In the desk beside her sat Jeremy, slouched and sullen. Not unlike he looked during an actual class, she suspected. There was a shiner on his cheek, angry purple and sickly green. That still wasn't the worst part. The worst part was Alaric standing over him, brandishing that strange silver stake. His eyes were alight with that same zealous fire as Esther's, glowing and righteous. That look, full of pride and fury and hatred, was infinitely worse than the pain that coursed through every part of Elena's body. "Here's a vampire, Jeremy. Kill it," the thing said, gesturing to her.

Jeremy folded his arms tightly across his chest, not even glancing at the stake. "Why are you doing this? If you wanted to kill her, you could've done it the moment she opened the door. Why are you bringing me into this?"

"When that bastard killed Jenna, I promised I'd take care of the two of you." He looked at Elena and sniffed. "There was no saving that one—she didn't just walk into the lion's den, she fucked the lions, too. Now look at her." He threw a disgusted hand toward Elena. "She's one of _them _now. I can't save her." Ric crouched in front of Jeremy's desk, their eyes level. "But there's still hope for you. I can still keep my promise to Jenna, still raise you like your parents would have wanted."

That tiny part of Elena who had still hoped against hope that Ric was in there somewhere, that he could be redeemed? That part of her died a quick, violent death. She had to get them out of here, or he would kill them both; first her, of course, but then it was only a matter of time before Jeremy did something that stepped too far out of this thing's narrow world view, and he too had to die. Slowly, excruciatingly, Elena began to raise her hands from the desktop. She bit on the vervain gag to stifle her scream of pain, but that only made her tongue sizzle, and she couldn't stay silent, letting out the smallest of whimpers.

Ric slammed both of his hands onto the pencils, shoving them farther into her flesh. Elena screamed through the gag, lightning bolts lancing across her eyes. "Just sit quietly," he said as if he were scolding her for talking during a test. "We'll get to you in a minute."

"What—what do you know about what my parents would have wanted?" Jeremy asked. Elena choked on a sob.

The thing turned back to Jeremy, his voice almost gentle as he spoke the vile words. "They headed the Council, when the Council still remembered its mission. Do you really think they'd be proud of her—hell, proud of you? You've fucked them, befriended them, been kind to them. But you can still be what they wanted you to be. You can still be a _Gilbert._" Through the shadows clouding her vision, Elena could see him extending the stake again. And this time, Jeremy took it.

"That's it," Alaric cooed. "That's it."

Elena closed her eyes. She wouldn't blame Jeremy, but she couldn't stand to see it, to watch his eyes become empty as Alaric's words and the evil of his ring stole her little brother and left a killer in his skin. At least she'd see her family again. She hoped Damon would be strong enough to carry on without her, that Stefan would be his rock, that they could give each other the courage to survive. She hoped there might still be redemption for Jeremy, that he might come back from this yet and be the strong, sweet, dorky little brother she loved. Perhaps most of all, she hoped it would be over quickly.

The desk screeched against the linoleum floor as Jeremy stood. Soft footsteps. "I'm sorry," Jeremy said. Elena braced herself, her tears mingling with the vervain.

There was a grunt of pain, a clatter as something fell to the ground. "I thought you were smarter than that," Ric said. She wasn't dead. That was surprising. She opened her eyes. Ric held Jeremy's forearm in his grasp. Elena heard something crunch in the boy's arm.

Jeremy winced, but locked his eyes on Elena. "I am," he said.

Elena ripped her hands upward, bellowing as the pencils tore her palms to shreds. But she still had enough faculty left to snatch the glass of vervain, the one he must have used to soak the gag, and smash it against the side of Ric's face.

There was no time for thinking, only for reaction. The smell of Ric's burning flesh sizzled her nostrils, the sound of his screams echoed in her ears. She scarcely noticed. Without thinking, she grabbed Jeremy and whisked them both through the empty hallways. Stumbling foot steps followed them, and Elena moved faster and faster, lifting Jeremy's feet off the floor and carrying him like a rag doll until they burst into the blazing sunshine. Only when they'd reached the far side of the parking lot, only when she saw Ric prowling in the shadowy doorway like a caged panther, only then did she stop. Only then did she put Jeremy down and pull the vervain gag from her mouth, bits of flesh following it. Only then did she scream.

* * *

><p>They sat together in the sunlight, Jeremy sprawled on the grass, Elena with her knees drawn to her chest and her back to him. "Are you okay?" Jeremy asked for the thousandth time.<p>

She couldn't look at him. Not because of what had happened in the classroom; he'd done everything right. He'd saved them. But she couldn't look at him because all she could see were his veins, his rapid heartbeat making that blood run and run like a raging river. And she needed that blood. The holes in her hands wouldn't quite heal, her tongue still wouldn't work just right. Until the others got here, until Damon brought her what she needed, she couldn't look at her own brother.

"Will be," she croaked, her throat still raw. "You need to take that ring off, Jer. You need to take it off and get rid of it." What had happened in the classroom, his seeming acquiescence to Ric's madness...it too easily could have been real.

"I didn't mean it, Elena. I'm not crazy; I don't black out. I don't want to...okay, I want to kill vampires, but I don't want to kill you. Or Caroline or the Salvatores." His voice turned hard. "No matter how much those two deserve it."

"Not helping your point," Elena said.

"You know what I mean. And Ric got one thing right—I'm a Gilbert. This is my legacy. I'm keeping the ring," he said.

Elena started to argue, to explain that having a legacy of _insanity _wasn't exactly a proud family tradition to uphold, but she didn't get the chance. The Camaro roared up. They all tumbled out, one after the other: Caroline had an armful of stakes. Stefan had a crossbow in each hand. Damon had a flamethrower.

"Where is he?" Stefan demanded.

"He was in his classroom, but he could be anywhere now," Jeremy said.

"Oh, Elena, honey, your face," Caroline said with horror.

"Not helping, Blondie," Damon growled. He dropped the flamethrower with a clang and settled down beside Elena. The other three strode off toward the school, pointing at various entrances. Elena vaguely heard them discussing the best methods of attack, how to flush Ric into the open. But none of that mattered compared to what Damon had, what she needed.

Fishing in his jacket pockets, Damon produced two pints of blood. She reached for them with trembling, bloody hands, scarlet creeping across her vision. Damon tugged the tubing free of the bag and held it to her lips. Elena gorged, scarcely noticing when he swapped one bag out for the other. She sighed with relief as the pain finally receded.

"Thank you," she said, wiping her lips as she drained the last drops of the second bag.

Damon seized her hands in his, clutching her wrists so tightly it hurt all over again. He stared down at her bloody, though whole, flesh with fury in his eyes. "He did this?" he asked.

"Don't get mad, Damon; there's no point." She pushed herself to her feet, offering him a hand up. He accepted, pulling her into a rough embrace.

"I'm going to rip his balls off and shove them down his throat for laying a hand on you," he murmured into her ear.

The idea probably should have horrified her. But they were so far past that. Any damage to Ric's body was like burning down an empty house at this point. The things he'd said, the things he'd done...no matter what his twisted, paternalistic feelings for Jeremy, those were just echoes of the feelings the man had once had. The monster had none of Ric's warmth, his courage, his love. Whatever happened to that thing now? It just didn't matter, as long as the threat was removed. Only then could they really mourn their friend and move on with their lives. "I'll help," she said.

He pulled back to look at her, dark veins writhing, smile feral and wild. "God, I love you."

They shared a heated, though tragically brief, kiss. Then she picked up the flamethrower.


	71. Lived

_So. Here we are. This is the penultimate chapter; I'll add an epilogue in the next few days, but I want to go ahead and say my thank yous here so the last chapter can just be about Damon and Elena, not me. _

_When I threw up that little drabble back in January after that chaste kiss on the porch, I never imagined I'd still be writing about it five months and tens of thousands of words later. It only happened because of all of your kindness and encouragement. Special, undying gratitude goes out to WildYennifer and onerepublicgirl. Without your friendship, your intelligent debate, your encouragement, your cat photos and music suggestions, I never would have survived this. Thank you both. Additional thanks to jade2099, who may be the only person to have reviewed every single chapter of this monster, always with wonderful insight and kind words reassuring me that I didn't suck. Thank you._

_There will not be a Season 4 continuation of this story, but I still have other tales to tell. If you enjoyed "Consumed," hit those author alerts so we can stay in touch. Hint: the next two pieces I have in mind are from Damon's point-of-view. Don't miss 'em._

_Again, thank you. I have had so much fun with this silly story. I hope you did, too._

_-Allison, 5/12/12_

* * *

><p>Elena didn't get to use the flamethrower. "As hot as you are with that thing, I don't want you accidentally barbequing anyone. Better leave it to the professionals," Damon said as he plucked the contraption from her hands.<p>

"And you're a flamethrower pro-" She shook her head with a slim smile. "Nope. Never mind. Don't want to know. Happier that way. But how would it have helped anyway? He can't just burn up from normal fire...right?" Elena asked as they walked to where Jeremy, Caroline, and Stefan stood.

"Fire didn't put a dent in Elijah; believe me, I tried. But we don't know what will kill that thing. _Someone _put an arrow in Esther's jugular before she could finish her Bond villain speech," Damon said.

"Shut up, dick," Jeremy said. It was almost like a reflex now. Damon spoke, Jeremy told him to shut up. Elena hid a smile.

"Let's think about this," Stefan said. "What could kill Mikael? You said Esther specifically mentioned him. There has to be a reason for that. Presumably they have at least some of the same weaknesses."

"Mikael could be daggered, unlike Klaus," Elena said, trying to remember that awful night, the night Stefan had seemingly betrayed them all and run away, the night both she and Damon had to accept that the boy they loved was never coming back. Stefan never had come home, not really. Not the same man who had left Mystic Falls the spring before, anyway. Then again, Elena was no longer the girl who loved that boy, either. Things change. She wrenched her thoughts back to the present. "And the stake. Of course there's the stake."

"Surely Esther wouldn't be dumb enough to arm Alaric with the only thing that could kill him," Jeremy said.

"Some people really suck at plans," Damon reminded him. "But you're probably right. Esther wasn't stupid; she was playing the long game here. Which makes me suspicious that she'd just let another vampire wander around for all eternity. What's to stop that thing from just starting his own new race of vampires once we're all dead?"

"Well, he hates vampires, for one thing, so why would he want to do that to anyone else?" Caroline asked.

"Loneliness," Stefan said quietly. "Even if you despise what you are, being alone is far, far worse." His eyes were a million miles away, a hundred years away.

"And Esther would have known that from Klaus. She would have planned for it," Elena said. Esther, for all her faults and failings and insanity, had understood her children, had understood _people. _No one could live alone forever, and she had surely known that.

"She must've built in some kind of kill switch. Problem is, we don't know what. Damn, I wish we had a witch," Damon sighed. Elena flinched.

"Could we just do what we did with Klaus—vervain the crap out of him and stick him in the tomb? They can be really weird roommates," Caroline said. "Then if we ever figure out what the kill switch is, we switch it. And kill him."

"We can't put him in the same tomb; Esther spelled him in and again, no witch," Stefan said. For the thousandth time that day, Elena wished Bonnie were here. She'd figure out the kill switch, she'd know how to take down Alaric and end all this. But if she were here, Damon wouldn't be. And if she were here, she might just side with Alaric and decide that vampires were contrary to the balance of nature after all. But it was all pointless speculation. Bonnie wasn't here, and never would be again. That still hurt. "But we could dump him somewhere else. Bottom of the Atlantic, for instance," Stefan continued, shaking Elena from her reverie.

"I like where your head's at, brother," Damon said. He popped the trunk of his car, revealing a veritable arsenal of vampire hunting gear. Vervain grenades, more wooden stakes, flasks of pure vervain extract, row after row of crossbow bolts, an ax, coils of wire whose purpose Elena couldn't quite figure out. Elena was pretty sure there was even a curved sword in there, gleaming beside the spare tire. "Incapacitating him's the plan, but be on the lookout for anything that might let us put him down for good."

Elena's eyes drifted from face to face as they set to work swirling arrowheads in vervain, filling syringes, checking bowstrings. Caroline, her best friend. Jeremy, her brother. Stefan, her friend _and _brother. And Damon. Her Damon. This was the last battle. One way or another, it would end tonight. If things didn't go their way, if Alaric was faster than they'd thought, if they fell one by one? Well, at least they'd be together. And the party Ric and Jenna would have waiting on the other side would be legendary. She allowed herself a smile.

No matter what happened tonight, they'd be safe. No more Klaus to dog their steps, no more witches to upset the balance of their lives, no more looming extinction. No matter what happened, whether this night ended with celebration or mourning, they would just be friends and lovers and family again. One way or another, it ended tonight.

She started to say something, to tell them that she loved them all and was so lucky to have them here with her, to thank them for everything and tell them she loved them again. But that felt too much like goodbye. So she put her head down and prepared for battle.

* * *

><p>The school was in flames. Every door, every bush and shrub, every blade of grass around the school was whipped into a towering holocaust. Every entrance except one. There they waited with vervain dripping from their arrows and filling their grenades; they waited with more fire and grim determination. As the last rays of sunlight faded into a dusky twilight blue, Alaric appeared in the mouth of their trap, watching them from the conflagration with an odd smirk. They hesitated, just for a fraction of a second, for old time's sake and old friendships and old blood. For a moment, they wavered. He didn't.<p>

Caroline fell first, before she even had time to throw the vervain grenade she clutched in her hand. Didn't even get a chance to pull the pin before her neck was twisted into an impossible position and she collapsed to the ground like a discarded doll. Stefan scored a hit with his crossbow, the bolt sizzling into Ric's shoulder, filling the air with the smell of roasting, rotted meat. It didn't even slow the creature down and Stefan joined Caroline in a heap on the ground.

Elena's arrow went wild, flying harmlessly into the flames engulfing the school. Alaric batted Jeremy's bolt away like a fly. The siblings struggled to reload their weapons. Damon rushed him, a streak of black in the dusk. Alaric caught him in the chest with one firm blow, sending him flying back, impacting the ground so hard he left a tiny crater in the earth. Damon didn't move.

The thing with Ric's face grinned at them, eyes empty and wild. "It always comes down to the four of us, doesn't it? Comes down to this fucked up little family you tried to cobble together. We have Mommy and Daddy-" he gestured to Damon's prone body, then to himself, "-and the two little brats."

"Don't do this. Don't take them from me, too. Don't leave me all alone, Ric," Jeremy said. His eyes were pleading, his voice was soft, and his hands still fumbled with the crossbow. Alaric was in front of him in a flash, plucking the weapon from his hands and breaking it over his knee. Elena finally reloaded the crossbow, but she couldn't get a clear shot; Jeremy's back was in the way, and she didn't trust her aim enough to risk the shot. She'd have to find another way.

"Don't call me Ric," the thing said. "And don't defend them. Not one of them is innocent. You love what they used to be, not what they are. If you really loved them, you'd let them go." His face softened, and for a moment, he was the man Elena remembered, the guardian and uncle and father and _whatever _she'd loved. "Besides, you'll have me. You'll always have me, Jer."

Everything clicked. The way Alaric was trying to seduce Jeremy to his hatred, the way he was almost gentle and _human _with the boy. It all made sense. Everyone else was collateral damage to him, but not Jeremy. Jeremy's blood had completed his transition, but Alaric hadn't killed Jeremy, hadn't even drained enough to incapacitate him. Because he knew he needed Jeremy alive and safe. Because Jeremy was the kill switch. It made sense in the bizarre, twisted logic of witches. A life for a life, a death for a death. A human lifespan that would give Alaric enough time to complete his dirty work, but it would have a real and inevitable ending. It all made sense. It also meant Elena knew exactly what she had to do.

This time, Elena's arrow flew straight and true. It thudded into Jeremy's back. As one, he and Ric fell to the ground.

* * *

><p>Elena cradled Jeremy in her lap, the flames from the school casting dark shadows across his face. He was so cold, so pale. She remembered another night spent holding his corpse in her arms and sobbing, waiting and praying that magic she didn't understand would bring him back to her. This was worse. Elena wasn't sure it would work this time. What if his ring had been tied to Ric's in some way and now was dormant and dead? What if the crossbow bolt didn't count as supernatural? Damn witches. Damn witches and their rules. Ric's body sat feet away, blood still drooling from his lips. It was hard to believe that he, too, wouldn't simply sit up, smile sheepishly and ask what he'd missed. But he wouldn't. Never would again. Unless...Elena's stomach clenched. If he and Jeremy were really tied together, would he come back too? She didn't know, and she couldn't think about that. None of it mattered anyway if Jeremy didn't wake up.<p>

Sirens wailed as fire trucks screeched to the school. The firefighters started on the other side of the building, affording them privacy for the moment. But all that seemed so far away and useless right now.

How many more of her friends, of her family, would she have to kill? It had been bad enough when her friends died because of her, when Caroline had been turned to prove a point or Jenna had died because of her blood. But now, to have killed Bonnie and Jeremy and Ric with her own hands? That was infinitely worse. Even if Jeremy came back, it was worse.

One by one, the others awoke, first Damon, then Stefan, then Caroline. They sat together in the dark, huddled around the body of a child until magic reanimated him, brought him back to life gasping and confused but whole. Alaric's body remained motionless and cold.

The sun began to rise, chasing the shadows from the sky. As she hugged the confused and shaking Jeremy to her, as she sat surrounded by her loved ones, her vanquished enemy and friend beside them, she finally believed that the war had ended. It was over.

* * *

><p>They buried Ric in the Gilbert plot the next day, another unmarked grave in the crowded patch of earth. Elena's arms were full of roses. One for Mom, one for Dad. One for Jenna, one for John, one for Ric, the blood red petals bright against the green, green grass. There was still one rose left in her hand. Caroline cried into Tyler's shoulder. Matt stared at his shoes. Jeremy rubbed at his eyes. Stefan watched. Damon left a bottle of bourbon sitting on the gentle swell of sod.<p>

"Should we say something?" Caroline managed through her tears. "Like, should I compel a minister or something?"

"Already said it all," Damon said. "He's not here, anyway. None of them are." He glanced at Jeremy, arching a quizzical brow. "Right?"

Jeremy shrugged. "If they are, I don't see them. Doesn't mean they aren't watching, though."

"Funerals get really weird when you start seeing ghosts," Matt sighed. "So I'm kinda glad they're not here."

Elena thought she was glad, too. As comforting as it was to know that all those who had gone before her, the long list of people she'd loved and lost, could look in on her from time to time, she wanted, needed to believe they were at peace and happy on the other side, not looking back with longing at what they could no longer have.

In ones and twos, they said their goodbyes and drifted away until only Damon and Elena remained, murmuring vague promises to meet the others at the Grill to raise a glass in Ric's honor. The two walked down the hill and over the creek to the willow tree. Elena lay her final rose in the grass. She didn't deserve to leave it; didn't deserve to remember or mourn Bonnie. But she needed to. "I'm sorry," she said, just in case Bonnie might be peeking in. It was inadequate, but it was all she had.

"Are you sorry about all of it?" Damon stared hard at the ragged edges of the sod that were the only indication of Bonnie's final resting place. Soon, it would grow back together and the earth would swallow her as if she'd never existed at all. "If you'd chosen differently, she'd be alive. Hell, you'd be alive. Maybe Ric, too. Somehow."

Elena didn't answer right away. Ever since that night she'd kissed Damon on the porch, since the night in the boarding house where they'd agreed to give it a go and see where love got them, life had been hard. The choice of being with Damon had made everything a thousand times more difficult. It had caused death and anguish and despair for both of them, to say nothing of those around them. There were a thousand things she would go back and change if she could, a hundred decisions she'd make differently. Elena had died for him and killed for him, and that had been hard enough. But living for him, living with him now and forever? That was the real challenge. He was stubborn and brutal; he was controlling and vicious. He demanded every ounce of her, accepted nothing less than her entire soul every second of every day. But she wouldn't have changed any of that for the moon and stars.

Stroking his face, she smiled. It was still a difficult gesture, still something she didn't feel she deserved. "I miss them. I'll always miss them. But Damon, I will always choose you." In the weeping arms of the willow, they kissed, something sweet and sad and older than time passing between them.

They meandered through the headstones in companionable silence with no real destination. They had all the time in the world, after all. And then some. "What happens now?" Elena asked. The fighting was over, and as glad as she was, its ending left a gnawing emptiness inside her. For so long, her every thought had been preoccupied with survival, battle plans, strategies for outsmarting their enemies. Now, she wasn't sure what happened. Go back to school, try to live a normal undead life? Try to raise Jeremy, try to be a good friend to the few loved ones she had left? The normalcy of it all was terrifying. How did she go back to that life after what she'd seen, what she'd done? How did they move past all these graves?

"Now? Now comes the fun part, Elena." He wrapped his arm around her waist, tugging her close. "Now we get to live."


	72. Loved

She wanted to go to college. He wanted to go to Florence.

"Or Kyoto. Or Capetown. Ooh, Buenos Aires! Come on, Elena. Tango. Cowboys. What's not to like? College can wait; we can always compel you into any school you want later. The Sorbonne, maybe."

Elena threw her mortar board at him. He caught it easily, toying with the tassel as she shimmied out of her graduation robe. Caroline's "Stayin' Alive" themed graduation party started in half an hour, and Caroline was _not _a fan of her guests arriving fashionably late. Elena stepped into her dress—gold, in honor of her new school. "We aren't having this discussion again. I'm going to college. The world can wait for four little years."

They'd had this argument every day for the past six months, ever since they'd sat down with a stack of college brochures. Damon argued that he could give her a far better education than anything she could learn in some stuffy ivory tower. He was probably right. But if they were off in Kyiv or whatever place Damon insisted she _needed _to see that day, she wouldn't be here for Jeremy's last year of school. She wouldn't get to see Matt and Caroline during holidays. She'd have to really say goodbye to Mystic Falls, once and for all. And Elena just wasn't ready to do that. For all the blood and heartbreak and graves here, Elena couldn't leave it behind just yet, couldn't embrace the new weirdness of her life. Maybe once she'd had four more years to grow up, four more years to adjust to her life as a vampire, four more years of adjusting to her life with Damon, maybe then she'd be ready to cut the last ties.

Things had been quiet the past few months. Sure, there had been a little scuffle with Rebekah, a nasty incident where Esther haunted Jeremy through his ring, trying to twist his thoughts against vampires and remold him in her own perverse image, but they'd dealt with both of those easily enough. No, the hard things had been remembering how to go to school without ripping her classmates' throats out, how to balance time for homework and time with her friends with Damon's demands on her attention, how to live on cold, unsatisfying bagged blood, how she was going to get into college with her grades. But somehow, everything worked out. She'd survived. They'd survived. And day by day, they worked on doing something more—remembering how to live.

It was hard. Fighting and surviving were simple. Remembering how to smile and laugh, mending fences with Stefan and Caroline and Jeremy, that was hard. Finding a natural rhythm with Damon when their moments together weren't stolen between battles, learning how to be together, that was hard. Some days, getting out of bed was the hardest part of all. But Elena grew stronger, learned to manage her grief and guilt. After all, pain shared was pain halved, and every night when she awoke screaming, visions of bloody throats and vacant eyes fresh and raw, Damon was there to hold her, to make her laugh, to soothe her back to sleep.

"Easy for you to be patient," he grumbled. "I've waited almost two hundred years for a girl like you; you just lucked into me." He crossed the room and zipped the back of her dress, snaking one arm around her waist.

"Whatever happened to that whole 'life can never be boring as long as I'm with you' thing you told me once?" she teased, relaxing against his chest.

"Oh, that's true. That's very true. But there are degrees of fun, and four more years living with your kid brother in Mystic Falls while you commute to Hollins is fairly low on the list. But I'm sure we'll find some way of amusing ourselves." He pressed his lips to the back of her neck, sending lightning bolts dancing up and down her spine.

Elena smiled and turned in his arms until she faced him. "I think we're going to be a little late for the party."

He grinned as she pulled him onto the bed. "Okay, but you're telling her this was _your_ idea."

* * *

><p>At first, Elena reveled in the routine and the normalcy, pretended to be a typical college student, went on spring break with Caroline, spent evenings helping Jeremy fill out his own college applications. Damon spent his days substituting at Mystic Falls High, which never ceased to amuse her or irritate Jeremy. For a while, that was enough for all of them. But once Jeremy headed off to the University of Colorado, the trappings of that life she'd wanted, the one with the white picket fence and the good job and the pleasant tyranny of a mundane life, it all seemed to matter less and less. What mattered was the call of adventure, the siren song of the open road and the endless unknown Damon offered her. As soon as she stepped off that graduation stage with her History degree in hand, they drove for the airport and boarded the first plane out of town. It didn't matter where they were going, only that they went together.<p>

There were years when they slept in a different bed every night in their thirst to see everything, experience everything. There were months where they scarcely left their bed, caught in an endless, ferocious embrace that threatened to devour them both. Damon showed Elena worlds she'd only dreamed of; Elena showed Damon the world with new eyes.

Sometimes, companions joined them on their travels. One long summer saw Damon, Elena, and Stefan on a yacht in the Greek Isles, drinking ouzo in the shadows of fallen temples. There was no awkwardness between them now, no bitterness over the love they'd lost, only a fondness for the people they'd once been and what they'd given each other. They were a family again, all three of them. Elena and Caroline spent long months together in New York, just the two of them, playing at life in the city. Once, Elena caught a glimpse of a familiar pair of brown eyes in the back streets of Cairo, a knowing smile just like hers. They'd nodded to each other and Katherine melted into the throngs.

Sometimes Damon and Elena put down roots for years at a time, dabbling at jobs—Damon in libraries and museums, Elena with children- as the spirit moved them, making friends, but inevitably moving on, always on. But no matter where the world took them or how many years passed, when the air grew chill and the harvest moon rose full and fat, they found themselves in Mystic Falls, raising a glass of bourbon and laying roses on so many graves.

It took a decade for Elena to brave feeding on people again, another quarter century before the nightmares stopped. But time lost its meaning the day Jeremy died. Jeremy had been the last remnant of her human life, had been ever since Matt died a decade before, when his great heart just stopped beating. Being with Jeremy, with his dark-eyed children and then grandchildren, had reminded her of what she could have had, if only she'd chosen differently. But the day they brought him home to Mystic Falls and buried him next to all those who had gone before, Elena buried her regrets with him. That was the day eternity truly began.

Together, Damon and Elena danced and laughed their way through the centuries. They still fought. They still hurt each other with cruelties both casual and calculated. Their love was never going to be one of daisies and sunshine; it would always be one of thorny roses and stormy clouds punctuated by brilliant lightning.

Damon pushed Elena to embrace the wildness within her, just as she pushed him to remember the goodness lurking inside him. Their love grew and evolved, becoming something deeper than words and truer than feelings, always remaining a love that consumed them both; a love full of passion and adventure, even a little danger. It was a love that made them whole, and a love that gave them both the strength to live.

_The End._


End file.
